Hunter
by Reaya
Summary: Sent to the University in Carthak after being caught, Alanna becomes known as 'the Hunter'. Seeking revenge for her dead sibling, she stumbles across the perfect job—kill the Prince her brother died saving.
1. Hunter

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**Hunter**

by Reaya

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A shadow flitted across a path;  
A blade of a sharpened knife;  
Resulting of a smoldering wrath;  
The gilded edge of a Hunter's life.

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**Summary:** After her brother dies from saving the Prince's life during the Sweating Sickness, Alanna has nothing left to live for. For the past eight years, she tolerated her current life--but only to give her time to train. Now she's a full-blooded assassin, more popularly know as a 'hunter'. She's never failed a job, and doesn't falter when she's hired to kill the prince. But when she comes face to face with him, she finds twists in her once straight path.

**Disclaimer:**_ (I'm only going to put one up for the whole story, so here it is)_ I do not own any of the characters in the story, they all belong to Tamora Pierce. I _do_ own the plot and the occasional characters that are unfamiliar to you.

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- Poem © 2003 by Reaya


	2. Prologue

**_Prologue_**

_When we switched places, I thought everything was perfect. I was stupid. I let Coram know too soon. He dragged me home, to let father deal with me. I suppose things weren't as bad as they could have been. Father punished me...by sending me to Carthak--to the University._

_I was scared. Magic, the very thought of it frightened me out of my wits. But it's different now. Because when I found out Thom was dead, I had nothing to live for. And who's fault was it? The Prince's. Yes that dratted prince my brother killed himself trying to save._

_Well, I overcame my fear of sorcery--just for Thom. I tolerated the University, but it didn't stop me from hating it, hating the world. I made no friends: I didn't want any. But I met street fighters, murderers, assassins, cut-throats, and people of those sorts in the city. They taught me, I just learned what they had to teach, and learned it well._

_So I continued to live, but my world was bathed in blood and hatred. I merged into the shadows and when I finally escaped the University, I became a 'Hunter'. In other words, an assassin, but even then, I did not forget what old Maude had told me, but even she had died. I killed without thought, but I healed those I did not have to kill. For the Gods gave me the Gift of doing both._

_I became a 'Hunter' and the world became my prey. I was paid to kill, and I have never failed a job._

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**Author's Note: **Weird Prologue, I know. But I was in a weird mood. I hope you like it, Remember to Review. This is just the beginning, Alanna's story will get more interesting. Yes, that was Alanna talking. The rest of the story will be in third person, don't worry.


	3. In the Shadows

_**Chapter One ~ In the Shadows**_

"So, 'ave ye 'eard who 'is latest target is?" A large man sat at the bar, talking to his equally big companion.

The other man nodded and looked around, as if someone might be listening in the shadows. "They say it's 'is Lord Oaklam. One can tell, he got an 'ouse full of guards and ain't notin' else. He's being more careful these days; he's waitin' for 'im ta show."

Both men shuddered and drank heavily from their tankards. Oaklam was much hated throughout the city. He was a slave trader and often took people out of the capital itself and sold them off to other countries. More than one person wanted him dead, but so far, no one got very far.

From the shadows, a woman dressed all in black listened. She wore shiny black leather breeches and a silk shirt of the same color. Her face was covered by a dark veil; only her cold violet eyes were visible. Her hair was hidden and she had on tall black boots which reached her knees. A long ebony silk sash was tied at her waist, a single black Opal at its end. A single large Amethyst dangled on a silver wire and settled in the hollow of her neck perfectly.

She smiled grimly when the two men had started talking; for it was her that they were discussing. She had been the talk of the city every since she had taken her first job, three long months ago. Of course, many thought _she_ was a _he_. She drained her tankard and reached inside the folds of her sash and took out a silver piece. She let it drop onto the table with a loud clatter.

Heads turned, she ignored them. A shiver went through the crowd and the room was oddly silent. She got up and walked towards the two men who were now wishing they were anywhere but here. "You were right about some things," she told them. Her voice was soft and light, but always seemed to carry a tone of mystery and coldness, but no one could mistake it for that of a male's.

"Do you know him? Lord Oaklam?" She stayed in the shadows, never letting herself move fully out of the dark. But even in the half-light of the shadows, no one that could ever mistake her for a man.

They two frightened men shook their heads jerkily. "N-n-not p-personally."

She smiled coldly, "Well, if you ever see him, tell him that I'm coming--soon. It's only fair to warn him, but it seems he knows already. Good, it's more interesting when they put up a defense."

She turned and left, and slowly, almost reluctantly, the buzz of conversation resumed.

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Once she was outside, Alanna sank back into the shadows. She had spent the past seven years like this, she liked it. The shadows that is, not her life. But it was better at least, than the university. With all those stuck up mages and ladies who used their Gifts for nothing but parties, luxury, or pleasure. She suspected it was as bad as the convent.

She bit her lips, thinking of that brought back bitter memories. _Stupid, _that's what had been, _stupid._ But just as well, Thom was dead. She hadn't even gotten to visit his grave. No, she shook her head to clear the thoughts. Memories are no help when she had work to do.

She looked up and measured the distance to the roof. It was a low one. She leaped onto a barrel and jumped to the roof from there. The whole city lay open to her, who would have thought, the roofs were an interesting highway. And there was never any traffic, except for the occasional street urchin smart enough to use it to get around.

She flipped to the next platform, higher this time. Silent footfalls seemed to echo in her ears. She knew she wasn't making a sound, but things were queer here. 

She made her way upriver, heading towards the lands of a certain Lord Oaklam. She juggled the bags of gold coins she that had suddenly appeared in her hands. This was the money that she had been paid to kill him. But this was not half of it; she could go get the rest when her job was done.

She didn't need the money, no of course not. She could be a good little girl and return to Tortall and Trebond, marry a dominating husband, and live the rest of her days in boredom and submission. She had enough money at home: she was a noble whose family tree reached back to the book of Gold. But she had nothing left back there, in that country of that life. She had lost it when her brother died those long years ago.

She cursed him sometimes, she was angry. But even more, she cursed the Prince, whose live he saved. Yes, he saved the Prince's life, but killed himself in the process. And who did she curse the most? The one who sent the Sweating Sickness in the first place. The very thought of these things made her blood boil.

She tried to rid herself of these thoughts, they only made her lose her temper and that was never a good thing. Instead, she concentrated on her target: Oaklam. She smiled; _I could almost feel sorry for him, if he wasn't such a filthy man himself._ She was glad she didn't have to kill an innocent this time, but she shouldn't care--not if she was to be a good assassin. And she didn't, not really. But she did heal those that she did not need to hurt.

Like on days when she didn't want to be seen as the 'Hunter', when that rare feeling came up and she didn't want to spend anymore time in the shadows. They were few, but they lasted days. The first time it happened was after her tenth assassination. She had just killed an innocent. Of course she was hired to do so, by Oaklam himself. The man had owed the Lord some money; he couldn't pay it, so Oaklam wanted to get rid of him. He hired the 'Hunter', who he had heard never failed a job.

That was true too, Alanna hadn't quit a job, and she never failed to murder the one she was paid to. But she did regret it when the person she had to kill was innocent--sometimes, not always, but sometimes. And it was times like these when she donned a black wig, dressed as a street girl and volunteered at the Healer's Station. She had the gift, and she had saved many lives. Enough to rid herself of the killing? Maybe. You never know.

They saw the color of her gift yes, it was purple, but they never saw her eyes. She kept her head down the whole time, avoiding anyone's gaze but the patients. And she only healed the ones that were fatally ill. Of course the whole process would leave her dizzy and lightheaded, but it was worth it. Or was it? She didn't now anymore. It was not her place to question right or wrong--but then again, when did she stay in her place?

She smiled in spite of herself and continued upriver through the road on the roofs. Jumping and climbing, always in the shadows. She almost enjoyed it sometimes--she got to learn a warrior's art--maybe not the kind she would like, but she was content with her skills--for the moment. She knew there would come a time when she would crave for more knowledge, of fighting, of this. But for now, everything was fine. Or was it.

She sighed, there was too many questions, she should just leave everything were it was and just focus. She hadn't thought like this since...since a long time ago. She couldn't--shouldn't--start again now.

The sky was now turning a queer shade of pink, making the clouds left around it seem irregular and deformed. Alanna paused and shaded her eyes to look at them. _Not tonight_ she thought as she watched the sunset. She didn't feel like being a hunter just now. She resumed her path, now heading east. Within moments, she was in familiar territory again.

She jumped down from the roofs and landed with a soft thump on the dirt. She scanned the alley for people; she only noticed a black cat, who sulked away the moment she took a step.

She shrugged and headed toward the end wall of the narrow alley. She ran her hand along the smooth stone of the wall, and the opal on her sash began to glow purple. With a quick movement, she extracted the stone from the silk and placed it in the hollow that had appeared in the wall. Almost immediately, four long cracks appeared, forming a box a bit shorter than her.

She pushed gently on the gem, applying just enough pressure needed to make it stop radiating purple light. The stone was absorbed into the wall, disappearing from sight. There was a small click and the cracks straightened and formed a door, which slid back to reveal a room. Learning sorcery at the University had its uses...

Alanna ducked inside it and surveyed the familiar surroundings carefully. A pile of large, embodied cushions were in a corner; a gauzy, expensive looking silver sheet draped over them. The Opal was on a mahogany stand near the door, once again violet light playing across its polished surface. That reminded her; she went back to the door and put her hand over the Amethyst at her neck. She squeezed gently and concentrated on the door. With another soft click, the door slid back into place.

She turned back to viewing her surroundings. She made sure that a large cedar chest was beside the bed of cushions, its gold-violet insignia seal across the lock. In a few great strides, she reached the opposite side of the room, where another, larger chest was. It stood above her waist and was also made of cedar. It was plain with only a small indentation where the lock should be.

She slipped the gem off its chain around her neck and placed it in the dent. The lid pooped open without a sound. Inside lay piles of clothes, cosmetics, wigs, and all manners of things. She chose some lip rouge, a dirt-brown wig, a coarse brown dress, and a pair of worn leather boots. She took them and placed them on the floor beside it, then closed the lid tightly.

Alanna removed the jewel from its place and walked over to the smaller chest. This time, she took the Opal too and slid it into a slit on its lid. She took her Amethyst and placed it on the middle of the gold and violet insignia. She concentrated on her Gift and drew out a single thread, thrusting it into the lock. The chest glowed purple-white and she heard a whirling sound. When the sound finally stopped, everything had stopped glowing.

Removing the Opal and Amethyst, she placed them on the floor momentarily. At first glance, the chest seemed empty, only lined with black velvet. In truth, you could see that black clothes were carefully folded and placed in it. Alanna took the small bags of gold coins out again and lifted the false flooring underneath the clothes. She placed all three bags into the compartment carefully and took out a small, worn, brown leather purse with a few coppers in it. She also replaced her silver-hilted daggers and got out some knives with battered handles that were in truth very sharp. She placed this along with the purse next to the dress and wig.

Satisfied, she nimbly reached up and removed her veil and coverings. She removed the pin that held her coppery locks of braided hair wound around her head and it tumbled to her waist. She stripped off her black shirt, breeches, and boots and donned the rough dress and boots she had taken from her other chest.

She folded the discarded clothing carefully and returned them to the place where they had come. Then taking the mud-brown wig and many more clips, she pinned her hair expertly and place the wig over it. So carefully and quickly was the done, that not a strand of her red hair showed. She applied the lip rouge sparingly, and when it was done, she looked like a regular, poor street girl. She added the final touch by tying the worn bag of few coppers around her waist. But what made her unlike other girls were the knives hidden all over her, professionally concealed.

At last, she closed the small chest and took back her Opal and Amethyst. These she put with the knife in her boots. She dusted off her hands and walked back to the door. She opened it once again and slid out into the dark street, the door sliding shut behind her.

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Short chapter? Oh well, I just typed it up. Not much adventure, but it explains a lot. If you have any questions, just ask in your review. I'll answer them in the next chapter. And now, go click the little button that says 'Go' and tell me what you think!

And everyone who wrote a review for my prologue, thanks! I didn't expect to get so many for a 400 word prologue.

~Reaya


	4. An Old Acquaintance

**_Chapter Two ~ An Old Acquaintance_**

  


The street was dark and Alanna had to wait for her eyes to adjust to her surroundings. The moment they did though, she started on her way. She walked up the street, pretending to be taking a night stroll. They moon was full and she knew there would be a festival in the square; so she made her way there. 

As she had known, the square was full of lights and people; venders called out their wares and shoved goods under peoples noses, yelling for them to buy. Alanna, masquerading a street girl, imitated the look of any poor girl who wanted something she couldn't afford. She thought she passed nicely, but she checked her weapons and purse every now and then to make sure they were still there. 

Someone pushed her against a vender's stall. She bit her lips and drummed her fingers on the surface until she could get her temper under control. Sometimes she wondered if it wouldn't be her downfall; a temper was not something a good assassin should contain. The owner of the stall barked at her to buy something or leave, she ducked her head to avoid making eye contact; there wasn't many with purple eyes, and she had become an expert at avoiding gazes while in disguise. 

She left, her face reddening with detained anger, she stopped and breathed in and out before continuing on. Her destination was an inn called the Trumpeting Swan. She opened the door and slipped in. 

Bright lights and noisy chatter welcomed her; she walked up meekly to an empty table and sank into a chair. She stared at the table, waiting; she didn't know what for, but something told her to wait. 

Her instincts didn't make her wait long; she was soon greeted by a familiar voice, 

"Hello." 

She looked up, not bothering to hide her eyes. A man stood their, his raven-black hair tied in a horsetail at the nape of his neck. His eyes shadowy, and his limbs seemed too long for him, making him look somewhat akward. She heard him suck in his breath as he saw the color of her eyes. "Alanna?" he whispered. 

She glared at him. "Sit down," she told him under her breath. "And shut up while your at it, you know me as Mel, not anything else. Got it?" 

The man nodded and pulled up a chair beside her. "Mel," he said, rolling the name testily on his tongue. Then he looked up sharply at her. "Is it true then?" 

Alanna laughed softly. "What's true? Do you mean that I stayed in Carthak even after I was released from the University or the fact that I'm someone else now?" Her voice was barely audible in the din. 

He shook his head, and said quietly: "So you really are a 'Hunter' now. The Hunter that everyone's been talking about? The one with the cold amethyst eyes who's never failed a job?" 

Alanna nodded slowly, then looked him in the eye. "What does it mean to you, Arram Draper? Are you not happy anymore with becoming a black robe?" The man called Arram sighed, "It's true then. Why didn't you return to Tortall, where you belong?" 

"I think what you really mean is why did I stay in Carthak and use my skill for assassin work." 

He gave her a half grin, "You know me too well. And how did you know I'm training for a black robe?" 

"You forget Arram, I know these things. After all, who else, other than you, has such a powerful Gift that they can even think about becoming one?" 

He leaned back, resigned. "You came that day to the University, small, withdrawn. I sensed a hidden anger in you, of course. With your hair cut short, it was surprising. And then when you received that letter, some part of you seemed to die, the good part under all those suppressed feelings, and you kept on disappearing. You didn't have any friends, you wouldn't even talk to me that first time when I tried to make conversation." 

Alanna nodded. "What good was it? I told you after didn't I? You know, you knew. Are you planning to tell anyone else? Or have you already?" 

"No, I haven't. I don't plan to either. But really Alanna-" 

"I said don't call me that." 

"Sorry Mel." He looked around and waved for a serving girl. "Somewhere more private please." He requested. 

The serving girl nodded, looking from him to Alanna. "If ye both'll follow me." 

She led them to small room with a bed, Arram frowned. "We really don't need a bed." 

The girl blinked, "We 'ave smaller 'n' cheaper 'ccomidations if you can't afford this sir." 

Arram opened his mouth, realizing what she meant. "This is fine." He toosed her a copper to buy her silence. She caught it and hurried out of the room. 

"I think she thought we were...You really shouldn't have hinted things like that." Alanna said when they were alone. 

"Yes, but, I really didn't mean too." 

Alanna smirked, "Of course. You're not really my type--if I had one--and you're too young." 

"I should think so." He pointed at the single chair. "Take a seat, we have to talk." 

Alanna obeyed. "We do not have to talk. I can walk away right now and pretend that I don't know you." 

"You could, but you wouldn't do that to an old friend, would you?" 

"Don't insult me, I have no friends, and I'm happy without out them." 

"Oh? Then what am I to you?" 

"An aquaintance." 

Arram raised an eyebrow. "Really, Alanna, I would expect differently from you. Do you also call your victims 'an aquaintance'? And what of your employees?" 

"I don't call them anything." 

He sighed. "There's really no talking to you like this." 

Alanna gave him a skeptical look. "What was it you wanted to talk about?" 

"Back in Tortall--" 

She held up a hand, "I don't want to talk about it." 

"No, I want you to hear this out. Why wouldn't you want to go back? It's a good country, it's your home." 

"Because my brother died there." 

"I know that. It's why I'm talking to you about it. The prince, you see--" 

Alanna interrupted again, "That is something else I don't want to talk about." 

"Alanna, just listen. I know your brother died saving him, the world know's for Mithros sake! I was just thinking how the prince survived the sickness, even if your brother died saving him. And have you heard of the Desert folk? The Bazhir? It was said he went to the place their Demons reside in, and he left it, unscathed. Of course the demons' themselves are still there, but the point is he escaped." 

Alanna looked sharply at him, "How do you know about this?" 

"I make it a point to know these things. I advise you to return to Tortall and sort things out, don't live in the shadows and blood, Alanna. Listen to me for once." He got up from the bed where he was sitting and slipped outside. 

Alanna was silent, but she too, pushed herself from the chair. But instead of using the door, she climbed out of the window and shrank into the night; her old aquaintance had made a point there, but she wouldn't take it. 

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Back at her 'hideout', she changed back into black clothes; carefully selecting shirt and breeches that were tight enough so that they wouldn't rustle when she moved. She pulled the wig out and took the pins from her hair. She bound the flowing copper locks into braids and wound it around her head. Pulling out a veil, she fastened it to place: it covered her hair, nose, and mouth, leaving only her eyes exposed. 

She also slipped into her specially made boots, with the soles re-enforced, but flexible. They made no sound against most types of flooring; including stone. With nimble fingers, she fastened the amethyst necklace around her neck and tied on the sash with the Black Opal. The last thing she did was sling a bundle wrapped in strong, black silk onto her back. 

Silently, the door opened and she slipped out again, retracing her old trail on the roof of the city. Thak's Gate, the capital of the Carthaki Empire, was never still, even at the darkest hour of night. Maybe that was why she chose this place to stay, not many were willing to hunt in a city that was never still. But there were some who did mainly for the profit, she did it for different reasons. 

With silent steps, she arrived at the stronghold, or rather castle of Oaklam. As she expected, guards were placed along every wall and niche. Alanna studied the castle, it was surrounded on three sides by a thick stone wall, the fourth side was bordered by a river; no soldiers were there, only sentries in their high towers. 

Alanna laughed silently, this was almost too easy. She followed the river upstream, where the current was fast and the water deep. Big boulders pierced the surface, an occasional tree growing on them where they could take root. She scanned the other side: a large hole directly across from her told her it was an opening into the castle, but that would be too easy, she needed a challenge right now. 

Doubling back, she went to the side wall and took a coil of rope from the bundle on her back. She pulled out a sharp hook from up her sleeve and attached rope to hook. She measured the distance to the top with her eyes. 

She heard the sound of footsteps as a guard marched past on lookout duty. The next time he passed would be her signal, for now she rested a hand on the cool stone. There were many indentions and cracks for her hands and feet, another advantage on her side. 

She waited for a few minutes before the sentry went past again. As soon as she knew he was gone, she threw the hook to the top, sending with it a faint coil of violet. Her Gift reached the top first, spreading and stretching itself under her command to cushion the sound of the metal against stone. 

When she felt the hum that meant the hook had reached it's destination, she tugged the rope to make sure it was taunt. Finding her footing in the hollows, she made her way up, as silent as a ghost. 

On top of the wall, she ducked into the shadows as the soldier came past a third time. He didn't even glance at her; shaking her head at the poor security, she slipped through a door beside her. 

The inside of the castle was easy enough to navigate; like all stuck-up folk, Oaklam's quarters were at the middle of everything. Heavy steel locks bolted the door from the outside, Alanna suspected that many more were also placed on the inside. Selecting a thin piece of metal from her boots, she stuck it into the uppermost lock and twisted. 

In seconds, she heard the satisfying click that meant the lock was now currently useless. With several similar twists, she undid the other locks, but the last one was a bit of trouble. The moment her pick slid into it, it turned red-hot and melted. She pulled away quickly as the deformed lock pick fell to the ground, steaming. 

She should have expected as much: sorcery, or rather bought magic. But that was nothing, for hadn't she gone to the University for eight years? The lock turned a glowing purple and melted to the ground next to the similarly melted metal. 

She ran her hand over the door and felt the magical aura of the bolts inside. In the blink of an eye, those locks began to shine with the same violet light and unbolted themselves. She smiled at her handiwork and opened the door. 

Once inside, she let the door fall close with a small creak. Her night eyes made out the forms of a bed, a desk and a large wooden chest. The figure of a slave lay huddled at the floor of the bed, another, larger figure slept on it [the bed]. The slave woke instantly and sat up, her eyes wide with fear. 

"It's alright," she whispered. With the prodding of her Gift, the slave fell back into deep slumber. 

The man did not wake as easily, she had to walk up to the side of the bed before he gained consciousness. He sat up, rubbing his eyes tiredly. When he could finally see, he found himself staring into cold amethyst eyes. 

Alanna smiled bitterly, "Hello Oaklam. Very sorry, but I've been hired to kill you." 

Oaklam shrunk against the end of his bed. "Please, I'll give you anything--gold, diamonds, jewels, slaves! Anything! Just don't hurt me." Then he blinked as he realized, "You're a _lady_? You talk like a noble!" 

Alanna snorted softly, "Of course, but know that you know, I have all the more reason to get rid of you. And you should know better than bribe me. You've heard the tales I suppose?" 

The man nodded. 

"Well, a good lot of them aren't true, but some contain grains of the real thing, and one of them is that I never fail a job. So, any last words?" 

"P-p-please don't hurt me." 

Alanna raised an eyebrow, "Can't you do better than that?" She drew her knife and within a minute, the man was dead and she was gone. 

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The next morning, the guards found the slave gone from the room along with all evidence of Lord Oaklam's assassin--But everyone _knew_ who it had been. 

Word traveled fast throughout the city and a elegant man who was traveling through it found it hard not to listen to the local gossip. It wasn't local exactly, but the man listened all the same. He asked around for 'the Hunter' and received the Sign against evil everywhere. 

By noon, he was thoroughly frustrated and annoyed. Not to mention hot and sweaty; as a man from the North, he was not used to hot and humid temperatures of Carthak. He felt someone tug his sleeve and he whirled around. An old beggar sat on a mat in the alleyway of a small, dank street. 

The beggar gave a thin smile, "I 'ear ye be lookin' fer _her_. What do you want _her_ for?" 

Stranger (since we do not know his real name, we'll just call him Stranger) frowned at the begger and grimaced in disgust. "What do you want filthy beggar? I am not looking for some _girl._ It's an assassin I'm sent to find." 

The old beggar gave a hoarse laugh. "But da one you be lookin' fer is a She. The Hunter's da one ye be finding, tisn't it? _She's_ the only one they be lookin' fers now a days. I can tell ye where _she_ be if ye wants." He paused and added, "Fer a price of course." 

Stranger stood up straighter at the last sentence. But to think of relying on a dirty old beggar! Automatically, he reached down and brushed the spot where the beggar had touched him, trying to get the invisible grim off. He made another face, "Well, tell me then," he demanded. 

"Every time after _she_ kills, da midnight afta, _she_ be waitin' at de Dark Bar. Everytime, _she_ be there, never failed once. If no one comes, _she_ leaves and at da next week, midnight _she_ be waitin' theres again." The beggar opened his hand for the money. 

Stranger handed him a single copper and the old man poked it intently. "I be needin' more fer me service nows." 

Stranger scowled at him, "I'll give you more later. First, you tell me where this dark bar is and how I can tell if it's really the Hunter." 

The beggar crackled again. "Ye be a smart one, dressed on in a finery as ye be! Da Dark Bar ain't hard ta find. Underneath ta Fount' Square tis be. To da vender of da daggers ye be wantin' ask 'im for de bloody knife, ye says 'I be wantin' de dark blade'. He'll take ye down then. I'd be wantin' me pay nows." He extended his hand for more coins. 

Our elegant Stranger dropped two silvers in it and left to wait for midnight.

  
  
  


True to the Old Beggar's words, Fountain Square was not hard to find. But it took some time to find the seller of the daggers. His stall was backed up in the shadows, and the place as dark as night, except for a single candle in the middle of it. 

Stranger walked up to him and pointed to the only Blood Covered Knife hanging on display. "I want the Dark Blade." 

The seller, a large man with a bald head nodded and motioned for him to follow. He lead Stranger to the back of the stall and to a door in the back. "Down you go." 

Stranger narrowed his eyes at the hole, but went down the steps anyway. 

Once below, he had to stop to wait for his eyes to adjust to the even dimmer light of the room. Small candles were place on every table, but that was the only light. A few men talked at a nearby table; he knew they had nothing to do with the person he had come searching for. 

He scanned the room for other signs of life. He saw a shadow move out of the corner of his eye. He turned, beside him, a woman in all black had draped herself gracefully over a chair. She was veiled and all that showed was a lock of flaming hair and icy violet eyes. In her hands, she played with a sharp silver dagger, twirling it on her fingers. 

"Looking for me?" She asked, her voice showed no emotion. Stranger shivered despite himself. 

"Are you the one they call 'Hunter'?" 

"I might be. Who's asking for me?" This time she let a drop of amusement show--just a drop. 

He bowed slowly, keeping his eyes on her and the blade. "I was sent by--by my _employer_. He wants to hire you." 

She waved the dagger impatiently through the air. "And?" 

"He wants you to assassinate the Crown Prince of Tortall. Do you know who he is--" 

"Of course I know who he is," she snapped. In a calmer voice she stated: "What will your 'employer' pay?" 

Stranger smiled and reached inside his cloak and pulled out a large bag of gold coins, waving it in the air in front of her. He expected her to drop her cool and make a grab for it. Instead, he was surprised when she didn't even glance at it. 

"You think I'll just lunge for it like some street urchin? A man like you should know better than that," she told him, wagging her dagger disapprovingly. "Now, does this mean I'll have to go to Tortall?" Stranger opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand. 

"No, don't tell me. I know the answer, I'm not stupid you know. Now, you must have heard my-_dislike_-for the country. I don't especially like it's Prince either." Stranger thought he heard a bit of malice in her voice each time he heard her mention the Prince. "So, do you know what that means?" 

He nodded elegantly and a sly smile found it's way to his lips. "Of course. You'll be ready by tomorrow, I take?" 

She nodded, then looked him square in the eye. "I expect you to provide transportation for me _and_ all my belongings." 

Stranger frowned, "_All_ of you belongings?" 

She smiled coldly. "Of course. I figure I might stay there for some time. Carthak is starting to bore me. And who knows? There might be more of a _challenge_ for me there." 

He nodded; he really didn't like the way she said challenge. He took the bag and tossed it at her. She looked at it and threw it back. "I'll take it later." 

Stranger caught it in surprise and stared at her. She shifted so more of her was in the light of the candle; he saw that she had a good figure. She glared at him. "You can leave now," she said icily. 

He nodded and walked away. "Here then," he called over his shoulder before he left. The men talking at the table became quiet. Stranger reached into his cloak again and pulled out some papers. He tossed the bundle along with a smaller bag of coins at the Hunter. She caught it gracefully, not even having to leave her seat. He admired her for that, but he was much better at other things. "It's for you." 

A slow nod was her only answer.

  
  


After the man had left, Alanna continued to play with her dagger. It was her favorite one, made of the finest metal, and always kept sharp. It cost her a lot too. She thought about their conversation and smiled. _Well Arram Draper, I guess I took some of your advice after all; I'm going to Tortall and leaving Carthak, aren't I?_

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Okay, this is a longer chapter. How do you like it? Please **Review**!!! Does it make sense to you? This should make up the long wait, it's pretty long. 

Here's the answers to some questions I received (I rephrased some of them): 

Question: **Since Alanna's a girl, shouldn't she be called 'Huntress'?**

Answer: No, because remember, most people do not know that she is female. And I don't think people would have called her huntress even if they _knew_ she was female. 

Question: **How old is Alanna at the time of this story?**

Answer: Good question. Right now, she's Eighteen years old. She was sent to the University when she was almost eleven, and then some time after that, Thom died. 

**Anymore Questions? Send them in with your _reviews_, because I know this story is-um-kind of _different_ from most fanfics and it might be confusing...**

~Reaya 


	5. The Stable Boy

**_Chapter Three ~ The _****_Stable boy_**

  
  


Alanna leaned back on her velvet-lined chair, feeling a bit queasy--a bit was an understatement. _Never, ever_ again would she set foot on a ship. Having not been on one for a long time, she had forgotten that she was _very_ prone to sea-sickness. 

After her talk with Stranger, she had left the Dark Bar and headed back to her hidden room. There, she packed everything into three chests, leaving out some coins and the materials needed for her disguise. 

The man had given her fare to cross The Great Inland Sea on a great ship called, _The Sea Queen_. She had found that the majority of passengers were successful merchants who thought very highly of themselves. So she had dressed as a stuck-up fur merchant's daughter who was traveling to Tortall to see a cousin. She had put an illusion over her eyes to change them to a pretty blue and she had a blonde wig for her hair. It would have worked very well, if it hadn't been for the young men stalking her and the sea sickness. 

Those young men had been foolish, but then, all men were like that-at least in her view. Even her brother, and especially the Prince. She wouldn't have been surprised if the one who sent the Sickness was a male too. She didn't hate men, not exactly. They just didn't _appeal_ to her, like love didn't _appeal_ to her either. 

Oh, well, that part of the journey was done and over with, and she had no regrets. She was thinner, and a bit tired, but she had time. Arriving in Tortall two days after she had set out, she hired a local man to carry her things to an inn nearby; she could have done it herself, but rich merchant's daughters did not carry luggage. 

So here she was, in a rich suite of rooms, brooding in an uncomfortably soft velvet chair. Pearlmouth was not so bad. It was warm here, but not so hot that the heat was unbearable--like in Carthak. 

Alanna sighed and got up, pushing the satin drapes away from the windows. Her rooms face the west, and a brilliant sunset was lighting up the sky just now. She stood by the window admiring it's beauty and vibrant colors. 

When she finally managed to tare herself away from it, twilight had come. She walked over to her chests and slipped out of the dress and into her black clothing. She pulled off the wig and dropped the illusion spell and transferred her daggers and knives onto herself. Making sure to pack everything away and locking them, she let herself out of the window. 

Being on the third story, it was a pretty long drop down. There were no holes or cannies for footing, but there was a vine. She tested it, it felt sturdy and she began to climb down. She dropped on the last few feet, landing softly on the stone of the courtyard, her boots making barely a sound. 

Shadows had increased in size and darkness, and she was once again in her element. She left for the inn of the Singing Bard, at the request of Stranger. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Stranger tapped his fingers impatiently on the wooden top of the table. His russet blond hair still damp from a sudden shower on his way there. When was she going to show? His note had been clear; she was to be here by Twilight. Twilight was almost gone, and she had not appeared. He sighed, he had probably been duped, he should have known better to trust a street beggar and a girl dressed in black. 

"Are you thinking about me? Worried I wouldn't show, hmm?" the Hunter's cold voice whipped through his thoughts. 

Startled, he found himself looking into the cold eyes of the woman from the Bar in Carthak. Standing up graciously, he gave her a polite bow. She just laughed and dropped down into the chair beside him. The room, which had gone unusually quiet when the veiled lady had entered, resumed it's usual noise level. 

"So," he said slowly. "I guess I underestimated you." 

She snorted softly, "You would." 

"But there, you are wrong. Who are you exactly?" 

She gave her cold smile. "I would like to ask you the same question, but I presume you wouldn't answer. So will you politely keep all questions _you_ would not like to answer likewise, to yourself?" 

He looked at her sharply, this one was clever. He had to be careful around her. "True," he said. "But that does not mean we are both not curious. 

"Tomorrow, at the crack of dawn, you shall set off for Corus in a caravan of merchants. You should fit in pretty well?" The only answer he received was a small nod. "At the capital, you know what to do." 

She gave a cruel smile. "Of course." 

"Will you be up to the journey? You didn't seem to be...well on the ship." 

She stopped smiling, and in the icy tone she had told him to leave in Carthak, she said: "I am an assassin. You understand that, don't you?" Her voice was soft and dangerous. 

A sly smile touched Stranger's lips, and in the elegant way he had of doing things, stood up and dropped a copper for his drink onto the table. He regarded her through green-flecked gray eyes, she was now toying with yet another small dagger, this one seemed to be less finely made. Her figure, he noticed once again, was almost flawless. True, she seemed to have lost weight on her journey, but otherwise she had not changed. 

Her eyes were bright, yet cold; he guessed her to be pretty young, he couldn't tell with her veil. _I wonder how she looks without her veil,_ Stranger thought. "I do not know what to call you," he said suddenly. 

She looked at him and blinked once. "We get along pretty well without names." 

"Maybe to you, but I, personally, am more comfortable when I have at least something to call someone by." 

She gave him a half-smile. "I suppose that's because people like you like to be in command of everything." A pause. "I was like that...once. I've changed, if not for the better." Another lapse of silence, longer this time. 

"'Till next time then," he said finally and left. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

At dawn the next day, Alanna made her way to the edge of the city. Her distinct copper hair hidden behind a blond wig. The veil covering her hair gave her a shy look; yet the quality of the satin dress she wore and the seal on the letter she bore showed her to be the daughter of a merchant. Her satin dress in a deep fawn color, and richly embroidered cloak showed that she was a the daughter of a very _rich_ merchant. 

An old porter and his assistant followed behind with her chests and belongings in a cart, wondering why this woman chose to walk and not ride. He thought it even stranger that she was so rich, yet traveling alone. Well, at least for the present, she said she would be joining the caravan to Corus. But still the old porter wondered, there was a strange aura about this one. 

In front of the stables, Alanna signaled the assistant to halt before entering the musty smelling place. It didn't take long for her eyes to adjust to the dimmer light inside. She grinned as horses of all colors and types stuck their heads out of the stall to see who was bothering them this time. 

She looked around and found a sleeping stable boy. She kneeled beside him and shook him awake. "Fetch your master," she instructed him. "I have business for him." 

The boy jumped up and nodded, embarrassed to be found unaware and asleep. He ran off as quickly as his legs could carry him after saying "Yes, ma'm." 

Alanna waited, bored, for the stable's owner to show. When five minutes had passed and here was still no sign of them coming, she took a step towards the horses, her eyes searching. 

She found what she was looking for in a nearby stall. A -- mare stood inside, snorting at Alanna when she dared enter. Clucking softly, she petted the mare's nose and producing a cube of sugar from nowhere. The mare only snorted again as if to tell her, _don't try to by me off, because it won't work_, but inclined her head to lip the sugar in her hand anyway. Alanna laughed as the sugar disappeared and the mare nudged her for more. 

Footsteps behind her made her whirl around quickly, her reflexes as an assassin taking over. She relaxed when she saw that it was only the stable boy and his master. She gave them a half grin and flipped a copper at the boy and turned back to petting the horse. 

The owner cleared his throat loudly and growled. "Ye be da one ta be lookin' fer me?" 

Alanna nodded and turned, fixing her illusioned, blue eyes on the big man. He had muddy brown hair and a wart growing on his chin. He seemed the kind of man to treat his animals and servants unkindly. "Yes." 

The man shifted a bit under her glare, he thought he saw purple under the blue. But _no one_ had purple eyes, except for that rumored assassin down south. He shook his head, no, it was probably just the light playing tricks. "what tis it ye be wantin'?" he asked roughly. 

"I'd like to buy a horse from you. This one, I think," she told him and turned back to petting the horse. 

"She ain't fer sale," came the barking reply. 

Alanna turned again, resting an arm on the mare's back. She raised one eyebrow elegantly, "Oh? Is that so?" She put on a fake pout, "But I thought you were selling her, this being a stable, you know." 

The stableboy looked at her with awe-filled eyes. _No one_ dared speak to his master like that, nevertheless a woman. He plucked up his courage and said, "But she tis for sales, ma'm. We was tryin' te sell her just yesterdays." 

A heavy blow landed on the boys back, causing him to lose his balance and fall. "None's fer sale unless I say so!" 

Alanna frowned deeply and helped the boy up. "Go stand behind the horse," she told him and returned to the stable master, looking up through blazing eyes. "I am going to take the horse, whether you want to sell or not. You don't deserve servant or beast with your soul manners." She swung around and saddled the horse, who waited patiently for her new mistress to mount. 

She felt a hand grab her shoulder roughly. "Ye want want her?" he sneered. "Gi'me the money. Three 'undred gold 'obles fer 'orse 'n tack," he said and shoved her against the wall. 

She twisted out of his grip and kicked him, within moments, she had a knife unsheathed and pressed against his throat. "Watch it," she told him harshly. "Next time, don't be in such a hurry to attack strangers, and be particularly careful with you manners in front of them too. Do you understand?" 

Muffled curses answered her and she applied a bit more pressure, making a drop of blood ooze out. "Do you understand?" she asked coldly. 

The man had gone rigid when he felt the blood ooze out, finally realizing that he might be in danger. He nodded very slowly and carefully. 

"Good. And don't let me find that you've hit another servant for saying the truth." She stood and returned the knife to it's place. "Get up, and go, before I change my mind about letting you go." 

The big man scrambled to his feet and left hurriedly, knocking down the stable boy again on his way out. 

Alanna scowled at his retreating back and extended a hand to help the fallen boy up again. She looked down to see the boy watching her with admiration. She gave a half smile and handed him a purse of coins. "Keep it," she told him. "Find some other place to stay, I don't know why you put up with him." 

"Maybe because he has to," a familiar voice said from behind her. 

She whirled around, her dagger drawn. "You." 

Stranger chuckled. "Yes, me. For someone who's an assassin, you know oddly little about a commoner's life and harships, milady." 

Alanna glared at him. "And where is it your business to question what I know?" 

"Don't like being surprised do you?" he asked. "Especially not when your helping someone out. So the 'Hunter' has a heart after all." 

Alanna scowled and crossed her arms over her chest. In the time that had past, she didn't notice her veil had fallen off her head, revealing her bright, coppery locks. "What are _you_ doing here in the first place?" 

"Call me Terrin, it's my name," he told her, choosing to leave her question unanswered. 

"Your _name_," she said, disbelief sounding clearly in her voice. "Since when did we start using _names_?" 

"Since I decided to tell you." A small pause. "It is my real name, you do know that. I don't plan to stay a stranger all my life, even if you do." 

She snorted. "Go away, _Terrin_," she said, noticing that the stable boy was following their conversation with intense interest. She looked at him now. "Aren't you suppose to leave now?" she snapped, not in the best of moods. "Go before he comes back and hauls you away." 

The boy nodded and scrambled to his feet, skipping out the door with his new bag of money clutched tightly in his hand. Alanna watched him go, a funny feeling arising in her. 

"Take the horse, 'Hunter'. The porter and the caravan are waiting. And while you're at it, leave some money for the poor man." 

"Poor?" Alanna sneered. "You expect me to feel sorry for that good-for-nothing stable owner?" She flipped her hair out of her face and covered it once again with the veil. She swung herself onto her new horse and dropped a small bundle of silvers on the stall floor. "Is that efficient, my lord?" she asked. 

Terrin gave her a half grin. "I'm no lord--but did you know you look cute when you pout?." 

Alanna snorted loudly again before guiding the mare out. "Are you flirting with me? Because if you are, don't expect to live much longer," she told him matter-of-factly and left to join the waiting porter and his assistant 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

LoL, took me long enough to update. You got to find out Stranger's real name in this chapter _and_ see Alanna finally get unbalanced! Don't ask, this chapter just came out of me. _I_ didn't even know it would turn out this way. Heehee, but that just shows that the story controls the writer than the writer does the story...and then after I finished typing it and re-reading it, I found that it kinda reminded me of that part in Lady Knight...but oh well. 

What am I babbling about here? Sorry, but please **Review!**

Kay, here are the questions and answers for the last chapter: 

Question: **How old is he [Numair/Arram] at this time? Also, who is Stranger?**

Answer: Lotza people mentioned this. Hmm...Tamora Pierce mentions somewhere--or at least hints, that he's younger than Alanna. And he's in his late twenties in Wild Magic, and Alanna was in her--I think--early thirties. So I think he's maybe around 14-16 years old right now. And as for the second question, this chapter answers some of it. ^-^

Question: "**This story isn't really this best idea of a story- mainly because this Alanna is unidentifiable to to the readers. In that case, she couldn't be called Alanna, right? Just a little tip. Alanna is NOT in character. Most of the Alanna-no-in-character stories usually don't survive..."**

Answer/Reply: Not exactly a question, but I wanted to talk about this anyhow. It's quoted exactly from A Little Bit Off's review. She mentioned that Alanna is unidentifiable, that she shouldn't be called Alanna, and she's not in character. But since different things have happened to her, she would have a different personality, wouldn't she now? Nothing much meant by this, Just wanted to mention it.

~Reaya


	6. A New Escort

**_Chapter Four ~ A New Escort_**

  
  


The merchants, drivers, and servants were stopping for the night, setting up camp while others went off to hunt for food. The girls around her age were gathering around a fire, laughing and talking. Alanna knew she should go with them too, but she didn't feel very sociable just now. 

A girl she had talked to for brief minutes on their trip caught her eye and waved to her._ Come join us,_ she mouthed to Alanna. Alanna smiled wearily and slid off her horse. She patted the mare's nose softly before mouthing back, _later_. 

She unsaddled the horse and threw a horse blanket over the mare. She patted it again before going off to join the merchant girls; she knew Starfall wouldn't leave. 

"Mel! Come sit," the girl said, motioning the ground next to her. The others watched her every move with curiosity, while she stared back coldly; still not used to being around so many people. 

"Sorry," she said politely, declining. "I think I'll retire early tonight." This was not true at all, but she had enough of these merchants to last a whole lifetime. She turned and walked quickly the large carriage-cart assigned to her, in which her belongings were kept along with a makeshift bed. The guests of higher status would sleep in these in case the caravan had to stop somewhere without an inn; in cases such as this. 

She entered the trailer-like carriage and saw that the make-shift bed had already been set up by a servant. She closed the door behind her as she she made flames appear and shooed them to their places burning on the candles. Her trunks and chests were pushed up against the bed while Yamani-style table held candles in it's holder. There was just enough room to move about, and even that was a bit of a struggle. 

Making sure to bolt the latch on the door, she then pulled off her wig and unpinned her hair, letting it fall unbound, to her waist. 

She had given up trying to maintain her illusion-spell on her eyes long ago--after the stable boy incident---it took too much concentration when she had other things to attend to, plus there were mages traveling with the merchants; they might be able to spot illusions. This way though, she had to keep her eyes peeled to the ground, avoiding gazes the whole day. Of course, someone was bound to notice her violet eyes sometime, and she gave up on that not long after she had tried it, too. 

She took out the Opal and Amethyst and inserted them on their depressions on the chests. Once opened, Alanna pulled out a tight, dark green shirt, so dark it seemed black, with matching breeches. She discarded her itchy and uncomfortable merchants' daughter's dress onto the bed; trading them for the soft, silky freedom of the dark clothing. She tied a veil over her face and unbound hair, scanning the room again. 

Grabbing her sash, she secured the Opal onto it, and slipped the purple stone onto the the necklace. She pulled on her boots and transferred a few more weapons onto herself. At last she was ready. With a small flick from her mind, the candles went out. Content with what she saw, she opened the door and slipped out. 

At first, she wanted to take her Starfall for a ride, but changed her mind when she was reminded that the mare had had traveled far that day. Instead, she made her way to the darkness of the forest surrounding the clearing. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Alanna let out a sigh and leaned against the big boulder behind her, closing her eyes and enjoying the stillness. The soft rays of moonlight shone through the dense canopy of trees; piercing every opening there was, and making eerie shapes out of the many shadows in the woods. Darkness surrounded her, along with silence...

She sat up quickly, eyes open and alert. The forest was not suppose to be completely quiet, not even at night--especially not at night. There always was some animal rustling or moving about, but there was none now. Even with a caravan camping near this part, there should be at least some moment. She strained her ears, attempting to pick up tiny sounds she might have missed, but no, there were none. 

That was not a good sign--it could only mean a few things, and most of them didn't apply to this situation. She stood up, her closely fitted clothing betrayed not a sound. Treading carefully, she walked towards the deepest part of the silence, throwing out a net of magic as she did, searching for the root of the problem. All she felt was the soft humming of old magic, and broke her net--it was wasting her Gift anyway. 

A whisper, she whirled around, but nothing. Maybe it was just her assassin nerves working overtime. She relaxed a bit, maybe the animals just never came to this part, after all, hadn't she felt the vibration of old magic? 

Something cold and sharp pressed against her throat, and she froze, cursing herself. Someone had sneaked up to her when she had dropped her guard, and now she was cornered with a knife on her throat. 

"Don't move, unless ye want ye throat slit," her captor growled. 

"Do you always kill unwary travelers in the forest?" she asked softly, taking a warning tone. Both hands were twisted behind her, but even at that angle, she could reach on of her many daggers. 

The man scowled. "A woman, eh? What be ye doin', walkin' 'bout the forest, alone, in the dead of night, away from ye company's" 

"What makes you so sure that I came with the caravan?" she retorted. "What if I'm an assassin out to get blood?" 

He laughed. "An assassin doesn' sit around enjoying ta moonlight." 

"Of course they do," Alanna replied slowly; this man was too sure of himself, well, she would show him. Straining her arm a little bit more, she managed to reach the handle of a weapon. Carefully, she pulling it out. Just to make sure he didn't notice, she distracted him with conversation. "And I should ask the same of _you_: why sulk about in the forest, near a poorly defended campsite of merchants with a group of moping bandits?" 

The knife was pushed harder against her throat. "Watch ye tongue, missy. Ye won't be sayin' much once ye dead." 

There, she had it! With a quick movement, her dagger bit into her captor's left hand, the one holding her, cutting down into his flesh. His grip slackened and she moved out of his knife's way. "Ye--" he sputtered. 

Alanna rotated her dagger playfully, catching the moonlight on it's well-polished and sharp blade, making it flash in the moonlight. "I'm what?" she asked coldly. 

"Ye-ye just," he stuttered, then looked down at his wounded hand. Using his other one, he put it to his lips and gave a shrill whistle. 

Alanna's eyes gleamed with fury, how could she forget that there were others? Quickly, before the others arrived, she did a low kick, unbalancing the man, making him fall with a crash. 

Before she had any more time to react, there was a rustling of bushes and undergrowth, and at least a dozen men poured into the dark niche; all dressed in black. She stood up, a dagger in both hands, and crouched into a fighting position. 

The first charged at her, a sword in hand. Alanna cursed her bad luck--of everything, her swordsmanship wasn't the best, in fact you could say she was plain bad at it; that and the other fact of which she had no teacher whose expertise was in this skill. And then, there was also the disappointing problem of which she had brought no sword. 

She ducked just in time to avoid being cut in half by the man's blade. Instinct and habit reacting, both daggers left her hand in succession to lodge themselves into her opponent's chest. He fell with a load ground, crashing to the ground. 

There was no time to watch what happened to him--even though Alanna was sure he couldn't be anything but dead--for more men attacked her in union. She cursed aloud this time, startling the men and making them pause. That gave her just enough time to slip out of the clearing into the shadows of the trees; she avoided any unnecessary fights when she could. 

It wasn't long before she heard the rogues crashing through bushes, close in pursuit. Thinking quickly, she saw a low-hanging branch and flipped herself onto it. From there, she pulled herself to the next limb until she was invisible to anyone on the ground-- hidden by thick masses of leaves--but could see clearly. 

Two men appeared within her line of vision. One was tall and lean, with his brown hair cut short; the other also tall and muscular, with gray streaked hair and a frown etched permanently on his scarred face. 

"She's disappeared, yer Majesty," the older man said to the other, who was clearly in charge, despite his youth--but Majesty? Alanna was sure this wasn't the King. 

"She has to be here somewhere, she has to. I still can't believe she killed Rikter--he was our best swordsman." The young man looked around, and Alanna thought his gaze seemed to linger longer on her hiding spot. 

"She used trickery, that's what, t'was no fair fight, she had them throwing daggers. If she wasn't a devious lil' slut, she might'er be as good as you, George," the gray-haired man growled. 

The one called George chuckled. "Take it easy Grayson--and don't go calling her all those fancy names, she might be able to here you," he paused to glance sideways at the tree Alanna was watching from. "I admit though, it wasn't a fair fight." 

"I should say so--" 

"No," George interrupted. "It wasn't fair for her. She was outnumbered, that and she didn't have a sword. And from what I've heard, she wasn't doing anything when Marek got her." 

Grayson scowled. "Yer too nice, Majesty, don't let the younglings 'ear you talkin' like that--they'd think ye weak." 

George chuckled again. "I doubt that. After all, haven't I kept the throne and rogues in order all these years?" 

"That ye have." 

There was a lapse of silence, then Grayson said, "Yer Sight?" 

George nodded, and she heard Grayson suck in his breath. "Ye know, but--" 

Alanna drew back, surprised. He had known she was there all along! Scowling, and knowing she was doing something foolish, she jumped down from the tree, landing softly on the dirt, her back to both men. 

She turned and stood up slowly, dusting her hands and brushing off her breeches. She crossed her arms, "No more games." 

George grinned and gave a small, making bow. "Lady." He pulled out a dagger, in it's ornate sheath, and laid it on the ground. "A truce?" 

Alanna pulled her favorite dagger from it's place--without the sheath, and raised it. 

Grayson's hands went immediately to the short sword buckled at his side. Alanna looked at him skeptically and tilted her head, amused. "Are you always thinking that someone's trying to kill? I was merely saluting your Rogue, that's all." 

"Salute 'im then," Grayson growled, still ready to draw the weapon at a moment's notice. 

Alanna shook her head, then saluted George. But as she did, her weapon sliced dangerously close to his large nose. He didn't flinch. 

Grayson drew his sword, and swung it towards her neck. She parried it with her dagger, holding it away. 

"Stop it Grayson," the Rogue ordered. "She was only testing me, like I did her." 

Grayson scowled again, but did as he was told. George then turned to Alanna, "How'd you guess? About me being who I am?" 

Alanna snorted. "If you think I'm that dumb--" 

"Of course not, Hunter," George interjected. Grayson frowned, puzzled. 

Alanna stared at him, then dropped her eyes to look at the ground. "So you guessed, too, how?" 

"If you think I'm that dumb--" George started and grinned when she glared at him for using her words. "There were rumors already," he informed her. "I merely made an educated guess--after all, only an assassin could look, sound, and do what you did." 

She took back her dagger and replaced it into it's sheath. She looked from Grayson to George, then tuned and walked away. 

She felt a hand on her shoulder. "Now just wait a minute, who said anything about you leaving?" 

She turned around and glared. "Let go," she demanded icily. Her tolerance had never been long, and she was at it's end by now. Even if this man hadn't been all that bad, it didn't mean he was worth any more time, either. 

"Don't look at me like that, it makes me shake in my breeches," he instructed her and was rewarded with a scowl for his tries. "Don't think me as rude--or as stupid--as to pass on escorting someone as interesting as you to Corus--that is where you're going, is it not?" 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Done with that chapter! She meets George in here, I hope your satisfied...at least until the next chapter. Please **Review** before you go, and here are the questions (there's a lot this time): 

Question: **Is she gonna meet the great Corus branch of thieves and assassins, or just jump straight into killing Jon?**

Answer: I think this chapter answers at least half of that question, sorry, but I can't answer the rest of it until later (yes, I know the answer, but I can't ell you without giving away at least _some_ of the plot.

Question: **Who wants Jon dead? Roger? Wasn't he _in_ Carthak at the time of the Sweating Sickness? So, does Alanna know him or of him?**

Answer: I can't really answer this one, but, yes, Roger was in Carthak at the time of the Sweating Sickness. You'll learn more about this and him in the later chapters. 

Question: **Does Alanna met George? And what happens? It seems to me that George has more 'morals' than Alanna does - Does this result in conflict or do they become friends? **

Answer: This chapter has answered a fair bit of this, I'd think. lol. 

Question: **Is the horse that Alanna bought the horse that George bought for Alan?**

Answer: hehe. This chapter answers that, too. No, it's not the same horse, cuz Moonlight wouldn't be in Carthak 7 years after Alanna should have gotten it from George.

Question: **What Happens when Alanna mets Jon? **

Answer: Now I really can't anser this one without giving away my whole plot. 

Question: ** Whose this Terrin guy? Did you make him up or is he in the books but gave Alanna a fake name? Why does he want the prince dead? **

Answer: Uh, more hard ones to answer...Terrin is, um, I'll explain in later chapters. And he wasn't the Prince dead because...well, I'll explain that later, too. And, yes, I made him up. 


	7. Halfway to Corus

**_Chapter Five ~ Halfway to Corus_**

  
  


Alanna rubbed her thigh, which was beginning to cramp. She glanced around at the small group of rogues, all wearing similar, and wet gray cloaks. Alanna smiled and fingered her own cloak, a dark green one, which was still dry. University learning wasn't that bad after all, even if most of it was rubbish spells that you'll never need for purposeful things, there were a few (like warding cloth again dampness and rain) which could come in handy. 

She had been riding with this group for the past three days, camping out under the stars only when it had gone so dark was impossible to see what was right in front of your nose, and waking up well before dawn to travel again. Alanna scowled as she remembered the King of Thieves. 

It had taken him some time to convince her to travel with them. After that, she had to return to the caravan to get her horse and chests--it wasn't easy, even with the help of the Rogue's best thieves. 

George had been surprised over the quantity of her baggage, and remarked that they would have to hire a wagon to bring it all. Alanna told him tartly that it was _his_ idea for her to travel with them in the first place. 

His men were surprised when he announced that a woman _assassin_ was to travel with them. Some of them even openly told her that she couldn't possibly be one. Alanna had only smiled and let them talk. Those petty pickpockets weren't worth her time. 

George broke the large group into three smaller ones; placing Alanna in his. They set out the morning after, only to have a downpour begin an hour after they began. 

Now, three days later, it was still raining just as hard, with a break on the second day, Alanna was the only one who wasn't wet and grumpy. She urged Starfall to a trot and caught up with the Rogue. 

"I'm going to ride ahead," she said in her emotionless tone. 

"Wait--" he was cut when she galloped in off in front of him, leaving the man beside him drenched and covered in mud. The man sputtered and cursed her. 

He heard her laugh sound out as she disappeared over the next hill. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Alanna let out her breath when she was sure the group couldn't see her anymore. The rain soaked rogues weren't exactly her favorite type of company--when she bothered to keep any. She un-mounted, the mud of the road splattering her shiny black boots. 

A rustling in the nearby tree made her draw her dagger, holding it at ready. A cloaked figure immerged from the bushes. He walked up to her and pulled back his hood, revealing dirty blond hair and gray eyes. "My dear Hunter, are you going to use that on me, or is it some other unfortunate soul this time?" 

Alanna scowled, but sheathed her dagger. "Terrin, do you make it a point to follow me around or is it just coincidence?" she demanded. 

He chuckled. "I see you remembered my name. And it's a little bit of each, our employer made it a point to tell me to watch you." 

"Your employer, not mine--and he won't, they never are. I am my own," she told him softly. 

He grinned and shook his head. "You're too stubborn and willful for your own good. And no matter what you say or how much you deny it, you're the type of person who likes to be in control of everything, too." 

Alanna opened her mouth to reply, but was stopped when he took a long sword in a battered sheath from the folds of his black cloak. Alanna frowned at it. "What is that?" 

"It's a sword, of course," he replied wickedly. "I would have thought you knew that already. But I guess I'm wrong, should I tell you about it, my lady?" he asked and bowed mockingly. 

"I know what it is," she snapped. "No teasing unless you don't want to live much longer. I wanted to know why you took it out." 

Terrin smirked. "Don't like being teased, do you now? Here, catch." He threw the sword to her and she caught it easily. "It's yours now, just remember to keep it hidden while your with the rogues, it's valuable," he instructed while she examined the black gem on the pommel. "It's a black Opal, I'd thought you'd like them," he informed her when he saw her fingers lingering on it. 

Alanna looked up and regarded him through her violet eyes. Finally she said, "If it's so valuable, why give it to me? And why are you so sure that I'd like black Opals--even if they do store magic?" 

Instead of answering her questions, he chose to change the subject. "Don't spend too much time on the handle, check the blade," he ordered. 

Unconsciously obeying, she drew the sword, turning it over carefully, its polished surfaces catching what little light there was and reflecting it off, making it wink. She groped for something to test it on, and not finding anything, she pulled off her veil. She placed it gingerly on the blade, the cloth cut without her applying the least bit of pressure. 

She smiled, she was going to have fun with this--if only she could get someone to teach her, there weren't exactly the best of swordsmen in Carthak willing to teach a small red-headed girl. But she had her pride, and there was no way she would ask _anyone_ to help her out. 

Terrin's eyes gleamed with amusement when she pulled her veil off, revealing locks of shiny copper hair which was beginning to dampen in the rain. She was a pretty thing, if not beautiful, face shining as she examined the weapon held in her hand. Her cloak hid her figure, but Terrin knew how she looked even with it on. 

Alanna gave an inner sigh and returned the sword to its sheath. "Why exactly did you get me this again?" she asked. "You avoided my question last time, but it's time to fess up." She glanced up at Terrin and caught him starring. She glared, "What are you looking at?" she demanded coldly. 

"Hmm? Could you repeat your first question?" 

"I _said_, Why did you get me the sword, _and_, Why were you staring?" 

"Oh, that. I saw that you had no sword--" to her glare he added, "--no proper sword, that is. I've seen your sword last time, you never use it. I'd thought maybe...Anyway, since you have the Gift, I thought you might find the Opal...interesting. It's not your regular black, you know." He grinned. "But you'll find out more about it later." 

"How did you know what I used and didn't use--for that matter, how did you know what weapons I kept?" 

"I wouldn't be me if I couldn't find out information like that, would I now?" he asked loftily. "But I admit, finding those things about _you_ is much harder than it is for others. But that's besides the point; your to find me in Corus--somewhere in the temple district. If you can't I'll find you--and I expect you know how to dress." 

At the mention of clothing, Alanna picked up her dropped veil, now sliced neatly in two and covered with mud. It too, was rain-proof, but it didn't keep off mud, she hadn't thought of that. She couldn't wear that again. She glanced at Terrin's cloak; it was muddy and drenched. His usually polished boots were caked with dried mud, then covered again in another layer of wet mud. This amused her to no end, since the other times she had seen him, he was always spotless and elegantly dressed; careful not to dirty himself in the least. 

The man followed her gaze and grimaced. "Yes, I know, but I was in a hurry," he told her, as if that explained everything. He looked her her shoulder at Starfall and pulled up his hood again. "Your company's coming, I'd better get going now." 

She turned and saw her 'escort' approaching. She turned back to say something to Terrin, but he had gone while she was looking. She sighed and mounted Starfall, patting the mare's neck gently. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

That night, they camped near the boundary of the Great Southern Desert and the rainy mountains. They rain had stopped, but it was now the heat which bothered them. 

Alanna, tired as she was, could not fall asleep. Thoughts floated through her head aimlessly, distracting her from resting. They pestered her to no end until she got up to try to get rid of them. Her movements, soft as they were, roused George, not far away. 

"What is it, lass?" he asked, his voice hushed so as not to wake the others. 

"None of your business," she hissed. 

"Anyone can see that somethin's botherin' you. What can I give for your thoughts?" 

"Nothing--well, I guess you could give me--no, never mind. I feel restless, I need to ride ahead. I'll be waiting in that city the Bazhir built--what was it called? Oh, yes, Persopolis." 

She saw him grin even in the darkness. "How does a Southern lass like you know about Persopolis?" 

Alanna shook her head. "I'm going, you know, with or without your blessings." 

George chuckled sadly. "You must be crazy to think I'd let you go by yourself to the City, not with the Black City so close. You must of heard the rumors." 

"I can take care of myself," she retorted angrily. "I don't need some Rogue telling me what to do." She got up and left to saddle Starfall; grabbing her sword as she did. When she was finally sure her saddlebags held everything she needed for the trip through the desert, she mounted. Before she could leave, though, she heard footsteps behind her. 

"I'm comin' with you, then," the Rogue told her. 

Alanna scowled. "No, you're not. What about your people? They'd think you deserted them." 

She heard the man sigh, "Yes, there's that...but--" 

Alanna about to protested, closed her mouth as an idea formed in her mind. "Um, George?" she ventured. 

"What now?" 

"I guess you could come...but don't you think you should alert the lookout our goings? That way they won't think you deserted them." 

He chuckled. "You got a clever mind there, lass." Alanna wrinkled her nose at being called lass so many times as the King of Thieves walked off to talk to the sentry. 

Moving quietly, she urged her mount to a gallop and raced off into the sandy road ahead.

  


George cursed himself for his own stupidity when he returned and found her gone. He turned and trudged back to tell the sentry the change in plans. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Done with that. And thank you sooo much to everyone who reviewed! Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long for this chapter (since its only been a week). 

Oh yes, there were some who asked if I could e-mail them when I updated this story, and my answer is yes. If you would like to be alerted when I update _any_ of my fanfics (including this one [Hunter], The Prince's Lady, and Taking Chances) go to my bio page and click the link going to my website. Enter the site, then look for the Fanfic Mailing List link on the menu. All you need to do (when you get there) is fill out the form (your name and your e-mail address) and click GO! 

Now for my questions and answers: 

Question:** Is there going to be a pairing?**

Answer: Yes there's is going to be a pairing...in fact make that several. lol. And not just for Alanna, too. 

Question: **Where is the purple eyed cat?**

Answer: The Purple-eyed cat (also known as Faithful) will show up...later...but he _will_ show. 

Question:** Does Alanna meet the Goddess?**

Answer: I'm still thinking about this one...probably yes...maybe...We'll if I chose to make her, then I'll think of a way to work it in without ruining the plot...somehow...sometime...like later. heehee 

Question:** Will she meet the Shang Dragon?**

Answer: Yup, she'll definitely meet _him._ Just, like, um...later. 

Kay, that's is it for now. **REVIEW** for the next chapter! Remember, I'll be happy to answer any questions! 

~Reaya 


	8. Lessons

**_Chapter Six ~ Lessons_**

  
  


It was a long, hard ride to Persopolis. Not just that one night, either; she continued riding on, something--or someone--was calling a her to come. She stopped only momentarily each day to rest and eat. After five days of relentless riding, Alanna paused and shielded her her eyes, trying to make out the city in the darkness. Ahead, she saw the outlines of dark towers. She clucked to her mare to continue, kicking up a trail of dust in their wake. 

As she neared, she saw another city, a little beyond the black one. She frowned, thinking. _Two cities? But the Bazhir only built one--oh yes, The Black City, the City of rumored Demons. Like any of it is true; Demons?_ Nevertheless she gave it a wide berth, just in case. 

It didn't take much longer to reach the small Northern Gates of Persopolis. She unmounted when she saw the guards--a large Bazhir youth and another guard a few years older than the other, wearing (if she remembered correctly) what seemed Meron uniform. They exchanged looks when they saw her heading towards them. Alanna wound the reigns around her hand and walked up to the Gate--and guards--purposefully. 

As she expected, they barred her from entering, eyeing her with suspicion in their eyes. After all, how many people tried to enter a city wearing dark clothes and veils at the dead of night? Not many, and especially not with purple eyes. And from what she could tell, they couldn't tell she was a woman in the near-darkness. 

They pointed their spear points dangerously close to her neck, but she saw both hesitate momentarily. 

Alanna grinned wryly at them, but they couldn't see through the tight weave of her veil. "Will you gentlemen kindly let me through?" 

The larger and older youth gave a slow chuckle. "No," he replied. A bit of amusement and surprise showed in his voice when he heard her voice. "First, tell me why I should let you--a thief or assassin, from what I can tell--into the city to murder or steal. I would have thought you rogues were smarter than that; its midnight. No one comes out or leaves at midnight." 

"Except for that once with the Prince," the other man muttered under his breath, his accent contained a little of what Alanna suspected to be the desert people's language.. 

Alanna turned and looked sharply at him, eyes narrowed. "Prince?" she asked. 

The Meron guard nudged his companion gruffly. "Watch your tongue," he warned. The younger guard ducked his head. To Alanna, he said: "Its nothing you should worry about. I advise you to leave before..." he let the threat hang, as if to intimidate her. 

"Spare me the theatrics; they won't work. I've met people with a lot more experience and wit with it than you'll ever be," she told them. 

"Though some are more pompous about it," she added. _Like a certain Terrin._

This brought a small laugh from the younger guard, though the other one only scowled. "And what kind of people are those? Pickpockets? Slit-throats? I somehow doubt that they have that kind of elegance." 

"What would make you think that?" she questioned. 

He pointed her her veil and clothes. "Everything. Your manner, your clothing--mainly your veil, your sword." Alanna's hand automatically reached for her sword hilt at it's mention. She had forgotten she carried it. 

The guard saw her movement. "If you remove your veil so we can see your face, and leave your weapon here, we _may_ consider allowing you entrance." 

Alanna snorted. "Not likely." 

The Bazhir nudged his companion and whispered something. The grim-faced Meron guard nodded. "The sword, then. Show me." 

Alanna sighed and rolled her eyes. She unstrapped the sword from her waist and threw it--along with the scabbard--to the guard. 

The guard leaned his spear against the wall so that his hands could be free to catch it, and when he did, he was surprised by it's weight--it was the lightest he had ever lifted. 

Light caught the black jewel embedded in the pommel. He frowned, an Opal--moreover that, a _black_ Opal. Very expensive. He looked suspiciously at the woman standing there. Who was she, and what did she want? He could tell by her stance that she was highly trained in fighting. He ventured a question. "Do you know how to use this?" 

The purple-eyed stranger rolled her eyes again. Dryly she said: "No, of course not. That's why I have it with me."

The guard shrugged of the sarcasm in the answer. Instead, he handed the sword to his cohort. 

The Bazhir youth told the sword, admiring the expensive jewel and ornately etched handle. Taking scabbard by one hand and holding it delicately, he drew the sword very slowly, 

Out of the corner of his eye, the guard saw her move quickly. He grabbed his spear blocked, expecting an attack. He heard her sigh. "Don't smudge it, I didn't get a chance to see it myself. And I think you should be careful with the blade, I suspect it's very sharp, coming from who gave it to me." 

The weary guard gave a barking laugh. "A Gift? From who? A secret admirer?" he smirked. 

Alanna stared at him, wondering if the comment was from ignorance or stupidity. _Probably both_, she decided. "No, you couldn't call him that. Though you could say he popped out of a bush and handed it to me." 

"So its a He then? I suspected as much." He turned to the younger guard, who was staring at the blade which had just cut his finger when he had touched it lightly. The other guard frowned. 

Alanna thought this was taking too long. "I warned you to be careful. She snatched sword and scabbard back and resheathed it, tying it to her waist. "So, can I pass?" she demanded. And with a flick, threw them each a gold noble. 

The two conversed quickly in whispers for a while and finally nodded. "Go on, just don't tell anyone about the gold." 

"You think I would?" she retorted and led her horse past them.

  


After she had left, the two continued to talk. 

"I think it's her," the Bazhir said. 

"What makes you so sure? You didn't even see her hair, nevertheless her face," the Maren guard told him calmly. 

The youth shrugged. "I just know. I think you do, too, or else you wouldn't have let her pass. I know you don't do things just for gold." 

The older one's face darkened. He was born and raised in Persopolis, he played with the Bazhir children in the city when he was young. Even though he was descent from a Northerner, his Bazhir friends trusted him. This background also gave him a strong belief in Bazhir prophecies and legends. 

"So you think she's the belated one who was to have come with the Prince?" 

The Bazhir shook his head. "No, she wasn't suppose to come with him, _then_. The Demons weren't killed, even though the Blue-eyed Prince escaped. The Voice tells prophesized that a mysterious stranger would accompany him when he returned to battle the Demons again." 

"But why are you so sure it's _her_? She's mysterious, certainly, but she came from the South, she has the tiniest of Carthaki accents. For all you know, she's never met the Prince. In fact, she might be a prostitute traveling from Carthak, albeit one in breeches and tunics." 

The Bazhir rolled his eyes. "Since you saw that one, you think women are all prostitutes. Hasn't Ali Mukhtab given a speech on this to you already? You're so naive, even if you act all tough." The Bazhir youth grew up with his fellow guard, and was also born and raised in the city. In fact, for some strange reason or the other, he never visited a Bazhir Camp outside of Persopolis. 

"I guess you're right, you usually are." 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

It was hard to find an inn in the Bazhir city so late at night, but she managed. But the sun woke her after what seemed only a few minuets of sleep. Weariness she had not felt during her hard-ridden journey was finally catching up to her. 

But she had exercises to attend to. An assassin was almost as good as nothing if he--or she, in her case--got out of shape. Pulling out her last clean set of clothes from the saddlebags she had taken off of Starfall, she dressed quickly. She much preferred to practice at night, but there was no helping it. 

She tucked her daggers into their places, but hesitated to take the sword. At the end, she took it, pride had to be pushed aside just now. 

Flipping out the window and scaling the wall to the roof was no hard task. And the roof was flat, with place to move. Plus, no one was there, or on any of the others. 

Scouting her surrounding one more time before starting her stretches, she noticed a small shadow where shadows had right to be. Two throwing knives appeared in her hands, and hurtled towards the dark figure. 

The figure moved to the right and a hand reached out to grab both knives out of the air. He glanced at them, then at Alanna, a few roofs away. Maneuvering quickly, he narrowed the distance between them. 

Alanna frowned and pulled out a few more daggers--just in case. She had a strong hunch of who it was, but she couldn't tell. Whoever it was wore a dark cloak with the hood drawn over his face, even in the searing desert heat. She also reached for the sword, _better to be safe than sorry_, she told herself. 

As he approached, the man pulled off his hood. Alanna rolled her eyes and scowling, threw a dagger at him and turned around. She didn't bother to look if he had caught it, she knew he had. 

"Go away, Terrin," she said. "Why do you insist on following me? You have the sword spelled to see where I am, anyway." 

There was a pause in the approaching footsteps, then a chuckle. "Always suspicious, aren't you? If you bothered to take the few seconds it took to see, you could have known that there was no magic placed on the sword--other than that of the jewel itself." 

Alanna turned to glare at him. "Some people must think very highly of themselves to follow me around," she snapped. 

This comment only produced another chuckle. "I was told to watch you, or don't you remember?" He pulled off his cloak, flicking a bit of dirt off as he did. She noticed that he now wore a spotless white damask shirt and leather breeches, with matching boots. 

"What?" he asked dryly, "Not what you expected? I can't always be wearing clothes that have been rolled in the mud, you know. And I see that you don't, either." 

Alanna pointedly ignored him; if he was going to follow her around everywhere, he might as well do it quietly. 

As if he read her thoughts, he said: "I wouldn't have bothered to talk to you if you hadn't thrown the knives at me." He held out her three daggers, point first. Alanna stared at them, unmoving. 

Finally he sighed. "If I'd know you'd be such a grouch today, I wouldn't have bothered," he muttered. He looked around and spotted the sword. He raised an eyebrow elegantly, "You kept the sword? I'm flattered. I thought you would have thrown it away long ago, seeing as how you treat me." 

Alanna paused in her exercise and looked up at him. "It's not like I'll use it," she answered. 

Terrin returned her gaze quizzically, "Then why keep it?" Alanna didn't reply. He grinned as an idea dawned upon him. "I could teach you, if you want," he offered. 

Alanna halted her exercises and turned to face him. "I suggest you leave," she told him coldly. "I don't know what gave you that idea, but..." she stopped. 

Terrin walked picked up to sword and pulled it out of the scabbard. Hefting it expertly, he walked up to Alanna. "Everyone has a weak point," he told her. "And you're flawless--in a deadly way. I was worried that you might not be human." 

Alanna scowled, what was he playing at? "Nobody's perfect," she snapped. 

"Precisely." He grinned deviously. "Now, do you want to learn, or what?" 

Alanna sighed and looked longingly at the sword. The best Swordsmen in Carthak didn't exactly teach people like her the art of the sword. And most of the rogues there didn't know a copper worth teaching. She had her pride, but... 

"Come on, Assassin-Girl, I'm not going to wait all day for you to make up your mind."

The idea of taking lessons from Terrin didn't exactly thrill her, but since he knew about her not being the best with the sword anyway, it couldn't hurt. Could it? "I guess so..."

Terrin grinned and threw her the sword, then he produced one of his own. It was longer and heavier than the one he had given her, with an ebony handle and Silver-Grey Stone. 

"Get ready, its going to be one long morning."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Done! Hee hee, I now I'm neglecting my other fics, but this ones the fun-est to write. I know, I know, the story's going at a snail's pace, but don't worry, things will heat up when she get to Corus...like, literally. And that would be the next chapter.

Questions, everybody, questions! And don't forget **Reviews**! I'm just addicted to them, who couldn't be?

Question: **I****s He (Jon's Uncle) the employer?**

Answer: Ah, Do you mean Jon's Cousin? Duke Roger? Uh...maybe I could give this away just once...Should I? Hmm...I guess I could...maybe not though...Okay, here's my compromise: If you really want to know bad enough, e-mail me and I'll tell you. (My e-mail is: Reaya@eudoramail.com )

Question: **This is going to be A/J right?**

Answer: Should I answer this? Here, I'll tell you this, Call it a love Circle-thingy-majigy. There'll be more info and explainations in the later chapters. lol.

Question: **Are the Ysandir still in existence?**

Answer: My first direct answer in a long time: Yes.

Question: **Does George feel anything for Alanna?**

Answer: Another direct answer: Yes. There's going to me more on this in--yup you guessed it--_the later chapters!_ Hee hee Don't you just love it when I say that?

Question: **Why do you always have to leave it at a cliffhanger?**

Answer: Do I now? I didn't know. *Crosses fingers behind back* Honestly. 

Question: **Who are your favorite couples? A/J? A/G? A/S (Alanna and Shang Dragon)? A/A? Who?**

Answer: _My _favorite couples? But if I choose one, I'll end up getting killed! *Takes deep breath* Here goes: I like A/J, but that doesn't mean I hate A/G, either. In fact, I think they make a great couple, with Alanna's personality and frequent arguments with Jon and all...but it would have been sweet if she _did_ end up with Jon, wouldn't it? I also think A/A fics are interesting, too.

Question: **Will they get to Corus soon? And is she going to be there as Lady Alanna of Trebond, or a commoner?**

Answer: So sorry, but I can't answer this until...the later chapters.

So with all that done, I hope no one kills me, and...um...go Review!

~Reaya

**Note: *After I post the next Chapter of Taking Chances, I will be taking a break from fic writing. Probably from 1-2 weeks away. Of course, I'll still be reading fics, and going online (duh), etc. If you want to be alerted when I update, you can subscribe to my mailing list by followoing the link listed on my bio page.**

**Thank you.**


	9. Bloodshed

**_Chapter Seven ~ Bloodshed_**

  
  


"If you're going to lounge on the ground all day, at least try to keep the sword in hand; you won't be hurting a fly with your skills." 

Alanna scowled. "Let off," she snapped. "I'd like to have seen you at your first sword bout." 

Terrin chuckled. "My, my, aren't we in a mood today? But if you really wanted to know, I _won_ my first sword bout--and that was against my teacher." 

Alanna refused to reply, but grabbed her sword, which had fallen next to her and flipped herself off the ground. Terrin grinned, "Ready for another beating?" he asked. 

Alanna moved into the 'guard' position he had first taught her, determination etched on her face. 

Terrin took one look at her and returned his sword to his sheath in one slick movement. "Okay, maybe I went to fast, but didn't you _practice_ the positions _at all?_

Alanna glared, and sheathed her own sword. "I want to learn, but I'm not desperate." 

Terrin flashed another grin. "Seems to me you are." Before she could open her mouth again, Terrin had come up behind her. "Take your sword out," he instructed. She rolled her eyes, but grudgingly obeyed, turning and purposely pointing it near Terrin's neck. 

He reached over and took the blade pointed at him by two fingers, pulling it. Alanna, surprised, lost her balance as her sword was pulled from her hand. Terrin swung the sword until he had it by the hilt, moving back behind her. All the time looking as casual and elegant as if he were taking a sweet from a child instead of a razor blade from a deadly assassin. 

"You let your guard down," he accused.

True, she had, thus forgetting one of the first things she had ever learned. The sword was offered to her again, hilt first. She took it slowly, keeping her eyes cast down.

"I guess your not that bad for someone just starting out." Startled by the sudden comment, she looked up, straight into gray-green eyes boring into her own violet ones.

She gulped and looked down again. "Do you have to stare at me like that?" she mumbled, unsettled for the moment.. 

"Maybe." 

Alanna quickly recovered her posture and shot him a glare of her own. She raised her sword a little higher again, keeping a tight hold on the hilt. He came around and wrapped his larger hands around hers, holding it in position. "I've already taught you the movements, now try keeping the position while you practice them." 

He guided her through the Crescent Moon Swing and the Butterfly Sweep. "Breath in and out slowly, try to get into the rhythm of it. Let the blade show you what to do, and above all; practice." He stepped back and away from her, letting her traverse through the drills by herself.

Alanna followed Terrin's instructions unconsciously. She was only slightly surprised when another sword came up to stop hers. She swung her own around and blocked as the opposing sword descended. She caught her mysterious acquaintance's grin as their swords met with a ring.

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

Half an hour later, with their little sword fight done, the two sat quietly. Alanna dangled her legs off the edge of the roof, staring thoughtfully at the sunset. Her hand still rested on the sheathed sword beside her. Terrin regarded her as thoughtfully as she watched the sunset. He leaned back against the railing built strictly on one side, his own sword resting across one knee and held in place by a calloused hand.

This strange young woman was something very new. Not many chose the life of an assassin when they could lounge about in pleasure and riches. She was clearly a child from some well-to-do family--a noble, perhaps? Her manner and talk all pointed in this direction, but...

"Terrin?"

He snapped to alert, surprised at her using his name. His hand wrapped around the dark scabbard of his sword. "Yes?" He watched her carefully, still wondering who exactly she was.

Alanna blinked several times, she had surprised herself. She hadn't meant to say anything aloud, but her mind seemed hazy just now. _Might as well just ask the question,_ she decided. "You really do like using the sword, don't you?" It came out all wrong, and she mentally slapped herself.

Terrin raised an eyebrow, this was very curious, indeed. "Yes," he replied, choosing his words carefully. "You could say that. You could also say that it's one of my..._expertise._" 

Alanna shifted from her place, turning so she could see him. "You have others?" she asked dryly.

"Yes. What of you?" he questioned.

Alanna was caught unguarded. "Me? I like...I used to want to--Never mind. I'm perfectly fine with what I am right now. Butt off," she added tartly.

"Oh, really?" he answered in a semi-sarcastic tone. "If you are so content with what you know, then why ask me to teach you sword arms?" The conversation was returning the the type they usually had, and Alanna liked it this way so much better. Just as long as no one asked her any...uncomfortable questions.

"For your information, _you_ asked _me_ if I wanted to learn. And yes, really. You're just twisting my words around."

"Am I? I didn't know."

Alanna snorted, "As if! If you want to play word games with people, go find someone else."

"But you're so much easier to play them on. But in that case, go to bed, Hunter, you need sleep for the trip tomorrow," he replied; an amused smile was once again on his face. Which, of course, just got her so much more annoyed.

"And what makes you think I'm going anywhere tomorrow?" she shot back.

He pointed at the street below, which he had watched all that time. "Because if you haven't noticed; your 'escort's' arrived. In fact, they're right below you."

Alanna glanced sharply at him, but looked down. A group of travelers were just entering the inn a few steps away from the one whose roof they sat on. One of them turned around and looked straight at her, smiling, before following his companions into the building. She had just enough time to see a pair of hazel eyes.

"How'd you know it was them? You've never seen them before!"

"You underestimated me, then." He paused and added, "Look on the bright side. You've underestimated me this time, instead of the other way around."

Alanna scowled at him before readying herself to jump to the lower rooftop of another building. Terrin stood up to watched her until shed descended into the now dark street below and vanished into the other inn.

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

Alanna tapped her fingers on the side of her chair as she waited for her 'escort' to arrive. She double checked to make sure her sword was still tucked safely under her seat. She wondered what was taking them so long, after all, she had already checked on them that first time, then left to return to her room in the other inn to change into something more presentable and less likely to draw suspicion. Next, she had made sure they were still at the inn before choosing a corner table and waiting for George to find her. They needed to talk. 

"You need something there, lass?" the subject of her thought asked.

"What took you so long?" she demanded unveiling her impatience for a moment. Then in a calm and cool voice added, "I was stuck here with an obstinate man for a whole week. And you do know that most people do not like being in the middle of a desert in the middle of summer, right?"

The Rogue chuckled. "Was it really my fault that you tricked me and left by yourself? I cannot ask my men to push themselves and their horsed to the your extent in the middle of the night."

"But you knew."

He laughed again. "I might have known. You are a prickly one, aren't you?" He took the chair across from her and caught the eye of a serving girl. "Bring me an ale, could you?" He turned to her, "Ale? Or maybe some lemonade?"

She looked at him wryly. "None."

George nodded to maid and she scurried off to fetch the drink. "What is it you wanted then, lass. You must have needed something to leave us like that."

Alanna stared at him, unblinking. In her unfeeling voice she said, "We need to talk."

George nodded. "Aye, but what about?"

"I'm heading out of the city tomorrow. To go to Corus," she stated blandly.

"Trying to get rid of us again, are you?" He reached for the tankard of ale which had just arrived and drank deeply.

She cocked an eyebrow at him, then thought of something. "George?"

The man laughed. "Oh no, lass, I've learned from my mistakes. Don't you be sweet-talking me into any more of your ideas."

"I never said you couldn't come. I'm just asking you to be ready to leave tomorrow--at dawn, that's all." Alanna paused, _why am I quoting Terrin?_ she asked herself. She shook the thought away and focused at the conversation at hand.

The Rogue waited a few seconds before replying. "Tomorrow then? You won't be leaving without us again? Corus is pretty big, and I think I've missed out enough of interesting folk. Your 'obstinate man' one of them."

She scowled when remembering Terrin again. "You didn't miss out on anything. I still don't know why I actually waited for you to come." _Because you needed an excuse to stay here and learn swordsmanship from Terrin,_ the sly part of her mind offered. _You only joined up with the rogues in the first place because you were bored with the merchant folk._

They talked a while longer about this and that before she stood up to leave.

As she entered her room, she muttered, "I hate myself sometimes." She kicked the door shut behind her and walked over to her chests, which George had arranged to be brought up by his men while they were discussing plans. She pulled out another set of silk black clothing and replaced her ordinary dress with them.

She dug out a couple more daggers and knives to join the ones already assembled on her. She sifted through the various items until she came across a veil and sash which satisfied her. She heisted--like always--before taking her sword and strapping it to her waist. Putting the rest on took no time at all and pretty soon she was out on the street again.

It had been sometime since she'd gone hunting at night. Things were very different in Tortall than in Carthak, she had forgotten how much. For one thing, slaves had been a part of daily life, Tortall seemed foreign to the word. At least the weather hadn't changed much (well, she _was_ in a city in the middle of desert).

Like always, she walked in the darkest side of the street and was careful not to stray out of the shadows. Being bored did not help the fact that she was an assassin who lived to kill. She smiled coldly to herself as she imagined the cold blood of Thom's killer--the one who sent the sweating sickness, and that of the prince's.

Alanna balked and froze in mid-step. Her hands were suddenly clammy and her brow broke out in sweat. _Why am I thinking these things?_ She was an assassin, but she was only because...she frowned. Why _did_ she become an assassin? To kill and to...certainly not to enjoy it. No, never. But that moment, when she imagined the blood and--

"Thinking too much isn't always healthy," an annoyingly familiar voice sounded out, interrupting her thoughts.

"Says you. I'll do what I want," she snapped back. Secretly, she agreed with him. She repeated her over-asked question again. "Why do you still follow me around?"

He flashed her his smile, showing two rows of perfect, straight white teeth. Elegantly, he shrugged. "I talked to our _employer _today," he informed her, dodging the subject.

"Oh?" _now_ she was curious. Plus, it distracted her from thinking too much.

His nod was almost invisible in the half light. "But here is not the place to talk. Come." He turned around and walked off, expecting her to follow. Alanna glared at his back, and grudgingly fell into step behind him.

They were silent as Terrin led them to wherever he was going. But only for the first few minuets. "I'm curious," he started. "Very curious, about why you became an assassin."

_Well,_ Alanna thought grimly, _there goes my chance of not thinking about it._ But on the outside, she smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"As a matter of fact, yes. It's very strange why a person of such high status, such as yourself, chose the lowly life of killing--albeit being paid to. I don't think you need the money you receive for such game."

Alanna's lips were suddenly very chapped and her throat dry. She swallowed hard and turned very cold. "What makes you think that?"

He turned into an alley before replying. "One, your speech. Carthakis generally do not speak like Tortallan nobles. Especially not commoners. And I was very curious of why exactly was a Tortallan noblewoman doing at Thak's Gate."

Alanna licked her lips to wet them. "And why, do _you_ talk like a noble, too?" she retorted. She hadn't realized until then that he spoke with the grace and speech of one highly trained in etiquette and manners. His smooth speech and practiced elegance practically screamed it. Her find startled he almost as much as his prying questions had.

He grinned. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he mimicked. He stopped in front of a small doorway. Pulling out a miniature gold key, he fitted it into a crack on the wall beside the entrance. Turning it first to the right in a full circle then left in a half and then right again, the door opened silently on well-oiled hinges.

He stepped to the side and gave her a graceful bow, inviting her to enter. Alanna blinked at the unexpected action, then scowled at him. She didn't go in, but regarded the man and door through narrowed eyes.

Terrin gave a deep chuckle. "You're always suspicious, aren't you. If that's the case, I'll go in first then."

Alanna waited until he was inside before entering the lightless room. The moment she was fully across the threshold, the door closed behind her with a small click. She whirled around quickly, daggers ready to leave her hand at a thought. From somewhere at the other end of the room, she heard a small sound. She released a dagger and it shot through the air, it's blue-gray blade catching and reflecting the tiny fragments of light in the room. She heard it whistle through the air towards the source of the sound. But then it stopped.

"It figures," she said loudly. "Is there a light anywhere in here?" she asked.

She heard the laugh she expected. "There is, but I can't seem to find it just now. Why don't you call up some of your own light, I know you can."

Alanna scowled, but obliged. A small ball of violet flames sprung up, floating a mere inch from her open palm. "Is there somewhere I could send it?"

Terrin nodded even though he knew she couldn't see. "There's a chandelier somewhere around the center of the ceiling," he offered.

She sent the fire hurling up above at the holder he had pointed out. It caught the oil placed in the metal lamps and flared, loosing it's purple sheen. It served it's purpose to light up the rest of the room. It consisted of two large cushions with a low Yamani-styled table between them; Terrin was already propped comfortably in one of them. Otherwise, the room was bare.

"Are you going talk or not? It's really quite soft," he told her, meaning the cushions. "Sit, I don't want crane my neck looking at you too long." The flickering light given by the flames above played shadows across his face.

"I should stand here and make you crane your neck like that," she retorted, but moved to take a seat. True to his word, the cushion _was_ soft. Very soft. She leaned back and took a position not too different to Terrin's. "So..."

"We need to talk."

"Yes, I believe we have that fact down already. But what about?"

He grin good-naturedly. "I thought we settled that fact, too. But since you are unsure, perhaps I should give you the agenda."

"Yes, please do. I just love being made the fool of," she said dryly. "Start with our _employer._"

The grin was still on his face. "You say 'employer' as if it were bad," he mused aloud.

"If you haven't noticed, you do, too," she informed.

He smiled. "But I have. He is not exactly a man to be respected...actually he is, but...Under the circumstances, we could say he is...evil? What I found strange was that you categorized him in you not-so-good graces before you've even met him, or heard of him."

Alanna sighed. "So far, I have no one placed in 'my good graces'--as you put it. The only one I had there is dead. But let's not brood over that subject, it's been...long gone. Tell me instead, why exactly does he want to assassinate this Prince of his."

"I cannot. But I _was_ going to tell you about what he said earlier. He wants you to make hast to the capital as soon as possible. He does not want you to dawdle in this "sandpit" any longer."

"I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Oh?" he quirked an eyebrow in amusement. "You haven't told me yet."

"I thought you'd have known with all your 'sources'."

"And who told you I have sources?" he countered. "Maybe I work alone; but first, what makes you think I spy in the first place?"

"With everything you know and have told me? Well, you might as well screamed it."

"Hmm," he looked thoughtful. "Tell me something."

She tilted her head at an angle and viewed him cautiously. "It depends on what you want to know."

"Actually, I want to ask several things."

She pursed her lips, "You can ask, but I might not answer."

"I know that."

"Ask."

"But of course." Alanna saw an over bright gleam flash in his eyes. "Are you a noble?"

Alanna paused, then bit her lip. "Must we always return to this? What of you, are you one?"

He gave a barking laugh, his first slip from his elegant mask. It was very unlike him. "Oh wouldn't we all like to know. Yes, people are curious, but we must be the strangest."

"Maybe." She shifted until she was lying on her side and use her hand to prop up her head.

He sat up and stared at her. She shivered under his gaze, but stared back. Finally he stood up, pulling out a dagger--her dagger--from nowhere. He ran his fingers lingeringly across the flat of the blade, then played lightly at it's edge. "I wonder how many have shed blood on this...but now that you know some swordplay--and I expect you'll learn more, even if it's not from me--what of it? Will lives be ended on it, too?"

She dropped her gaze. "Much blood. I expect there will be more on both."

He nodded and flipped it flamboyantly into the air. She watched it fall and had to swerve and dip from the cushion to catch it. When she looked up again, he was staring at her...again.

"You'd better return to the inn, it's getting late. And if you're leaving tomorrow..."

"I'd better, then." She brushed herself off and stood, picking up her sword. "You following?"

He grinned impishly. "Not in your sight, no."

She shook her head and tucked the dagger into her sash, letting the door fall silently shut behind her.

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

Alanna sat with her arms wrapped cradled around her knees on the window seat of her small suite at the inn. The desert air was clear and cool and this hour of night. The moon was full and it's soft rays fell across the sleeping Bazhir city. Over the thick walls of Persopolis, she saw the black dot which was the Black City. Involuntarily, she shuddered. If all the tales about it were true, then it was a very formidable place. A lot of blood had been shed there. _Much Blood_.

_Strange how little things could make you think about so much_, she thought. She dropped her head, letting it rest on he knees. She sat there, deep in thought, for the rest of the night.

Somewhere else, another like her also lost sleep to forbearing thoughts of killing. _ So strange how the people that were suppose to pass through you life so very quickly made the biggest impressions. Gave you the most thought. Especially toward bloodshed_. He had killed, too. And even if he were able to sleep that night, he would have had nightmares about blood. _Much Blood..._

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

This did _not_ turn out the way I expected. Yup, I had it all planned out, I mean I had titled the chapter Swordplay for goodness sake! And then just like them to take over and push it their own direction. Well, guess she didn't make it to Corus yet, huh? So I suppose all that and meeting the people will have to wait for the next chapter, too.

*Sigh* If it doesn't go like I planned next time, I'm going to kill myself. Seriously. Okay...maybe not, but, I think you get my point. Questions anyone?

Question: **You like to leave us hanging don't you?**

Answer: How did you guess? That was my big secret! Actually, no. I don't like to keep people hanging (like I don't like to read cliffys, either) but my chapters just seem to _want _to end at those places, you know? Maybe not...but still.

Question: **Can u make it a bit of Alanna/Terrin?**

Answer: What do you think?

Question: **I was wondering who A/A was...**

Answer: Alanna/Alex ; yup another love/hate couple. I usually like those kind of couples. Don't know why, but I do...not that I don't like other couples, you know I do. ^-^

Question: **Who exactly is Terrin?**

Answer: *Hits herself on the head* I'm always trying to answer this question in my story, but as you can tell, he just keeps dodging them. Go figure. All my characters disobey me, it's not fair! Damon is a very good example of it.

Question: **WHY DON'T U WRITE LONGER CHAPTERS?**

Answer: *Whimpers* But they just don't want to be longer! Actually, I like them this length. They're not _too_ long, but not totally short, either. I'm trying to make them longer right now, I'm working on it, kay?

Oh yeah, btw, I organized a fic-writing schedule! Meaning I'll spend one week writing fics (when I'm staying at my house) then the next week (when I go to my best friends house) I no write notin'...okay, maybe _something._ But you get it, right?

**Thankx to everyone who's Reviewed! Whenever I ever get to actually finish this story, I'll write personal thank you notes (and post them here) for everyone! Meaning I'm going to have a very long list! Thankx everyone!**

***Remember that you can join my mailing list***


	10. Hangover Night

**_Chapter Eight ~ Hangover Night_**

  
  


At the crest of the hill between the seaport and capital, Alanna drew up her horse and unmounted. Her violet eyes glinted with some previously buried feeling as she took in the sight of the capital. 

Corus lay on the southern bank of the Oloron River, towers glinting in the sun. The homes of wealthy man lined the banks to the north; tanners, smiths, wainwrights, carpenters and the poor clustered on the bank of the south. The city was a richly covered tapestry: the Great Gate on Kingsbridge, the maze of the Lower City, the marketplace, the tall houses in the Merchants' and Gentry's quarters, the gardens of the Temple District, and the palace. The last was the crown and the city's border, beyond it, the Royal Forest stretched for leagues. 

She eyed the palace in a mistrusting way, "How well is the palace guarded?" she wondered aloud. 

"You won't be thinkin' about breakin' into the palace, would you now?" George asked her as he pulled up beside her. "Will you be leavin' us here or are you enterin' the city?" 

She shrugged and turned on him, still regarding the palace coolly through the corner of her eye. "Whatever's going to be convenient. I have to meet some people, re-supply, and--well, I have certain things to do." 

George chuckled. "Mayhap some of those certain things isn't stayin' within the law? Tell me, lass, I can help." 

She focused her eyes on George. "I'm sure you can," she drawled, "But I'm not exactly trustful, am I?" 

"I never expected you to be. Are you comin'?" he asked again. 

"I guess," was the emotionless reply. 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

There had been a stream of people entering Corus for all that it was already late afternoon. George and his men had blended right in, but Alanna was more noticeable. Her well-tanned skin [she had been in _Carthak_ after all] made her stand out a bit more along with her more exotic aura and looks (George told her not to try and disguise her looks, and she had grudgingly obeyed). George had instructed everyone to give their horses to Grayson while the others tried to 'mingle' more with the crowd; there was no need to draw unnecessary suspicions. Alanna had scowled in frustration but did see the sense in it. 

So now when the rogues had faded in with the others, George had expected her highly trained eye to be able to follow his movements, but Alanna had a lot on her mind and it took mere seconds for her to loose them in the dense crowds. 

She felt someone tug her braided hair. She turned to face a large man with chestnut hair and eyes, she could smell the lurid scent of alcohol, and he was clearly drunk. She arched an eyebrow and him, donning her cold and distant expression used on strangers. 

"What's a pretty face doing in breeches and shirt? Your hair and eyes make you stand out," he said, grinning strangely. 

Alanna's eyebrow arched higher. Terrin had made her more aware of speech and this young man clearly spoke like a noble. A sly smile crossed her face as she put a hand on the wrist holding her hair. "It's what I'm comfortable in," she replied coolly. 

He frowned, then smiled again. "You--" 

He was interrupted in mid-sentence by a call of, "Gary!" 

Yet another large--or rather, even larg_er_--man pushed his way to them through the crowds. He had tightly curled brown hair and coal-black eyes. "Gary, what in Mithros' name are you doing?" Alanna's eyes glittered with amusement. Another noble? She hadn't expected Corus and Tortall to be like this-- not saying she liked it here, of course. 

The bigger of the two young men looked very flustered when he reached them. He placed a large hand on Gary's shoulder and nodded an apology to her. "I'm sorry, miss," he apologized politely, embarrassed for his friend. "But he got drunk and left the Inn before I noticed, and--" 

"It's quite alright," she answered in the same cold tone of amusement she had used on Terrin upon their first meeting. "But could he please let go of my hair? I find it quite--distracting." 

"Huh?" the man named Gary seemed to have taken a shock of reality. He let go of her braid and clutched his head, pulling out of Alanna's hold. "Raoul? Where am I?" 

She grinned, "Thank you." She looked to black-eyed man and tossed her head at his drunk companion. "Try to keep him out of trouble. I'm not sure he would have liked the outcome if you hadn't come." 

Raoul frowned, what did she mean by that? He decided to forget it. "Yes, of course. Very sorry about Gary here, he sometimes drinks more than what is good for him." 

Gary jerked his head at the mention of his name and resumed staring at Alanna. "She looks like...someone we used to know," he pointed out. 

Raoul shook his head but looked Alanna up and down. "I apologize for the inconvenience he might of caused," he said again. 

Her icy violet eyes continued to dance in the rapidly fading light of the afternoon. "You already did--more that once in fact." 

"Oh." He was at a loss for words. "Uh, what's your name?" 

Alanna froze, then smiled, almost as if she were shy. "Hunter." 

"Hmm? That's a strange name, did your parents name you that?" 

"No. But no one calls me by my real name," _I don't think many people even know it anymore, _she thought. "Everyone calls me that, so..." 

He nodded and clapped his friend on the back. "Well, it was nice meeting you, um, Hunter. See you around?" 

_Not if I can help it, no. I hope I won't ever be seeing you again. _She returned the nod as he pushed his companion in the general direction of the palace. 

"Hunter? You actually told a complete stranger to call you that? You must be slipping, my dear." 

Alanna sighed. "Again, Terrin? And stop calling me that, while you're at it." 

He shrugged even though he knew she couldn't see him since he stood behind her. "Didn't I tell you it's fun to tease you since you react the way you do?" He paused and waited for her to reply. When she didn't, he went on. "But then, just watching and following you is such fun; trouble always seems to be finding you, isn't it?" 

"Of course," came the icy reply. 

Terrin clicked his tongue. "Come on, _Hunter_. You haven't use that tone on me for a long time." 

She turned and looked at him in a mock-sweet way, fluttering her eyelashes. "Oops," she said dryly. "My mistake. It seems that you'd better get used to it from now on." 

"Ouch."

She continued walking, hoping to loose him. No such luck for her, he followed with ease, people seemed to part for him, even though that didn't really happen. Alanna supposed it was just his way. After five minutes, she stopped, wondering where she was and where she was going. 

"Not lost are we?" 

"Perhaps. It's none of your business." she snapped. 

"Of course it's my business. It's time to meet our _employer._" 

"Where?" 

"At the palace." 

Alanna opened her mouth to reply, but closed it on second thought. "Oh." 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

"Hello Raoul, Gary," a black haired young man greeted his friends when he saw them in the hallways. 

His cousin stared at him, lolling before the light of recognition dawned upon him. "Hi Jon! We saw a pretty face that looked like someone we know." 

Jonathan blinked and looked to Raoul for console. "Did he get drunk, again?" 

Raoul nodded gravely. "He ran out of the Dove before I noticed and when I found him he was holding the hair of an annoyed young woman. He said she reminded him of somebody, but how many purple-eyed, red-headed women can there be?" 

Jon looked at Gary and frowned thoughtfully, running the faces of all the ladies he had met quickly through his head. "None that I can remember. Her name?" 

Raoul grinned. "This is the part that gets me. She said her name was Hunter, or at least that's what people called her. So there's no way we could have met her, I think Gary's just muddled from all that ale. Though I think she might just have the tiniest bit of Carthaki-ness about her, I'm not sure." 

"Carthaki? Wait, I think there was something mentioned about an assassin during Reports in Council today. One of their 'important' traders apparently--to us, he's just a slave trader. But he was killed a few weeks back, assassinated is their guess. There was a rumor that it was at the hands of a the rumored 'Hunter,' but he's supposedly a man. We're suppose to be on the look out for him, they're putting a reward up. He's suppose to have killed al lot; very dangerous." 

Raoul shrugged. "Maybe she just heard the rumors and was a bit wrong in the head. Don't bother yourself about it, we have more important things to figure out. Mostly what we're going to do when Gary wakes up with his hangover. We can't get Duke Baird because then..." 

"But I'm not asleep!" Gary protested. 

"You will be." 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

An elbow was jammed against her ribs and she lashed out at its owner. They were squashed in a dark, tight hovel, waiting. 

"Ow, what was that for?" her nemesis shot back 

"Everything. Why are we waiting here? I can hardly breath, though of course if you were dead it might be a _little_ better," Alanna retorted. 

"Haha. Very funny. For your information, we are staying here for your pleasure until they change guards." 

"What? In a temple cellar that's suppose to be used for who knows what? I thought you were some expertise at spying. And I'm sure _I_ could get past those guards."

"Will you just shut up!?" 

Alanna blinked, Terrin had _never_ lost his composure before, so why now? She shrugged and leaned further against the wall. 

"The guards are leaving, let's go." He kicked open the small door and pushed himself out. Alanna could only guess how he could crawl out through a minute hole elegantly and without getting dirty. She wiggled out carefully, but still ended up with a dirt stain on her Carthaki-styled tunic. 

She looked around for Terrin, but he had disappeared. She rolled her eyes and leaned against the wall impatiently. "Terrin, come out _now_ or else I'll--" 

"You'll what?" He appeared in black; his commoner's garb changed and his sword clipped by his side. He held another bundle of black clothing in his hand. "Go get dressed, cream shirts stand out too much at night, and you don't fit in with Carthaki clothes. He threw her the bundle. 

She caught it effortlessly but frowned. "Where did you get this? They were locked in chest and no one can open that!" 

"It wasn't. You left it in your saddlebags so I took it from that Grayson man. By the way, be careful where you leave your sword, I couldn't get to your daggers so I got this instead; I hope your good enough with it." 

"Oh, no. Of course not, how could I after a week of you drumming it into my head," she answered, the tiniest bit of sincerity mixed in with the dryness. 

He shrugged. "I trust you have a few daggers, so go change. We don't have much time." 

"In front of you? Gods no!" 

"I'm not asking you to change here. There's an alcove back there where you can have some privacy. Just hurry." 

A few minutes later she reappeared. "Where do I put my clothes?" she asked calmly. Terrin was surprised; he had expected her to at least yell at him for digging through her things. 

"Just throw them in the cellar, it's not like you'll be wearing them again." He waited until she was ready before speaking up again. He snapped his fingers and a wall of black fire sprung up, encircling them. 

"You have the Gift?" 

He shook his head. "No, of course not. I bought it from a friend of yours while in Carthak." 

Her forehead creased in thought. "Friend? Oh, you mean _him_. He's not a friend, just an acquaintance." 

"And pray tell, am _I_ an acquaintance?" 

She thought about it for a moment before smirking. "No, you're just an annoyance I have to put up with until I get this job done. Hopefully I'll never talk to you after tonight." 

"Enough. We've already wasted too much time. Let's go." 

Alanna rolled her eyes and followed him to the wall. He scaled it gracefully and with ease. At the top, he tossed a smiled at her, "Come on, the footing's fine." 

"I'm sure it is," she muttered under her breath and began to climb. It wasn't all that hard, but near the top, she slipped. A hand grabbed her wrist and hauled her up. 

"I didn't need your help!" Alanna protested. "I could have gotten up by myself!" 

"I'm sure you could have. Come on, time is running out." He vaulted of the wall, landing without a sound. Looking up at her he smirked, "What? Too high for you, do you need help?" 

She shot a glare at him and proceeded to do a back flip off, landing beside him silently. She stuck her tongue out at him. 

"Mature, aren't we?" he remarked. 

She grinned good-naturedly. "Of course, what else could I be? Though, _you_, are a different matter--no, don't look at me like that--Now, where to next? I guess I could make an exception and let you lead this once." 

Terrin returned her comments with a wry grin. "I guess I could, but only if you can keep up." He began walking quickly through the gardens, maneuvering carefully in the shadows of bushes and trees.

Alanna followed close behind, but she had to jog to keep up with him. At the entrance of a courtyard, he stopped. "Not so easy now, is it? Too bad you're so short."

"Being short doesn't mean of weaker," she threw back.

"I wasn't implying that. We're almost there, he's waiting." 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

The meeting was a short one--it had been arranged so they could not see each other. Instead, they spoke through their Gifts, making sure the other did not see their face. Terrin had waited patiently while they conversed. When Alanna put out the violet globe in her hand, she was fuming. 

"This is ridicules!" she hissed. "I'm not suppose to even go looking for him until _he_ decides." She pulled out one of her throwing knives and slammed it into the wooden door that kept the two rooms--and her employer--separate from each other. 

Terrin looked on, amused. "You go on ahead. I need to talk with him now." He waved her off and pulled her dagger out of the door. He tucked somewhere and pushed the door open, letting it close behind him. Alanna imagined bother of them burning up and was a bit consoled by that. 

She turned her heels and strode out of the room, forgetting that she was not suppose to be in the palace. She walked aimlessly for about half an hour, trying to burn off the rest of her anger and resentment, playing with one of her daggers as she did. How dare _he_ tell her what to do like she was a child and scolding her when he rebelled against his 'plan' and-- 

There was a small stab of pain in her palm and she looked down. Her angry thoughts had led her to nick her hand, and now a pool of blood welled up from the cut. She sighed and returned the dagger to her boot, calling upon her Gift to close the wound. 

Looking up, she found that she was now truly lost. She had never been to the palace before, leading up to the fact that she didn't know her way around the it. As luck had it, the door on her right had been left open and a soft moaning sound came from it. 

She entered cautiously, afraid she might be intruding upon something. Instead, she saw that it was a private suite she had entered and the chestnut haired man she had met earlier--_His name was Gary, wasn't it?_--was sitting propped up in his chair, suffering from what she expected was a hangover. She sighed and closed the door behind her. 

"You really shouldn't have drunk so much today, and don't you have healers here you could see here?" she asked curiously. 

The man looked up at her with a puzzled expression on his face. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" he demanded. 

"You've met me before, don't you remember?" She walked closer. 

"Oh, it's you." He frowned. "What are you doing here?" 

She shrugged. "Things," she answered blandly. "Hangover?" 

"The worst, and I can't see a healer because I wasn't suppose to be drinking." 

Alanna pulled a guess out of thin air, "A squire?" 

He laughed softly and shook his head, wincing as he did. "No, I've been a knight for a few years." 

Alanna raised her eyebrows. "Why worried then? I never heard there was a rule against knights drinking." 

He smiled weakly. "There isn't, but my father would tell me off for drinking anyway." 

"And who's your--never mind." She thought for a few moments during which there was a pause. "If you have some water and a pot around here I could make you a cure--" 

"How? You don't look like a healer to me; dressed in black and sneaking around the palace in the dead of night, but then--" He gave a small, strained laugh. "For all I know you could be an assassin trying to kill the King." 

Alanna smirked, oh how close to the truth that guess was! "I might be, but do you want the cure or not?" 

"Well, my head seems to be splitting in half...what do you think? But I can't get any water for you, and the only pots are in the kitchens...I could get Jon and Raoul to get you some but..." he groaned. 

Alanna calculated what she had to gain or loose by this, but nothing came up. "Can they be trusted?" she asked abruptly. 

"What do you mean by that?" 

"I mean can they--"

The door opened and two men stumbled in. Raoul was one of them, he had his sword halfway drawn by the time he regained his balance. The other man had coal-black hair and brilliant sapphire eyes. His elegantly carved mouth and straight nose made him one of the most handsome men she'd ever seen. His hands, too, went for his sword. Both were dressed in ball time finery.

Alanna crossed her hands over her chest. "Your friends?" she asked Gary. He nodded stiffly. She turned to Raoul and grinned slyly. "We've met, who's your friend?" 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

Have you noticed that Alanna's not so cold to everyone and spending less and less time brooding about her past? Okay, I admit she still thinks about it when she sees a few certain people but not so much as the beginning? Do you think she's actually *gasp* loosening up?

And wow, she actually got to Corus and met Jon & co.! And Roger. Except she doesn't know it's Roger. And Gary with a hangover, and Jon's going to-- oops, I'm going to give too much away. ^-^ 

So how did you like that chapter? I think it was okay only because it moved the plot forward (finally).

Questions & Answers Time:

Question: **When is she going to get to Corus and meet Jon?**

Answer: I just answered that...

Question: **Is Faithful going to make an Appearance? **

Answer: Yes, of course. What will my story be without the know-it-all cat? Oh, unless his Royal Cat-ness doesn't _want_ to, of course. I can't do anything about that because none of the characters obey me when I want them to. Hmph!

Question: **How about Liam?**

Answer: Your guess is as good as mine.

Question: **Is Alanna's father still alive?**

Answer: No, He died the same time as in the real series.

Question: **If he's not, then who's running it?**

Answer: That would be Coram.

Question: **How did they win the Tusaine war without our beloved Alanna?**

Answer: Big plot twist here. Since Roger didn't help the Tusaines (or whatever you call them) because his plans weren't as 'destroyed' as it would have been if Alanna were there. Since she wasn't he decided that he would just wait a few years to take the crown, but just as a caution. So without his help, the Tortallans won. And you know what he tried next...

**And then there was a lot of questions about Terrin that I will so evilly ignore....That and the pairing questions. You all just love to make my life and conscience horrible by asking those don't you all?**

**....Okay, not exactly, but you all get my point. Don't you?**

Mailing List URL won't show up so just e-mail me and I'll add you myself. If you're actually an active person, a few mouse-clicks gets you to my bio page and a link to the list's sign-up page.

~Reaya

P.S. Here is where I insert a plug and scream at you to join the Dancing Dove Forum whose link is also on my bio. But of course I won't do that because you _will_ go and join, won't you? It's fun over there!


	11. Letter from a Goatherd's Bastard

**_Chapter Nine ~ Letter from a Goatherd's Bastard_**

  


"Oh. You're that--" Raoul started. 

Gary groaned loudly. "Don't talk so loud--you know, that cure would be helpful right now."

Alanna gave them a mock-sweet smile and walked over to them slowly, leather heeled boots clicking against the stone floor--Terrin hadn't brought her special boots. "Would you mind fetching some water?" she asked the blue-eyed man in a whisper. He blinked back at her before the shock wore off. "I-I--"

"Of course he will, won't you Jon?" Gary prodded. "She needs it for the hangover cure." He nodded slowly before heading back out the door, supposedly to get some water.

Alanna pulled out a leather-wrapped bundle from somewhere and sifted through it. She pulled out a small tablet and tossed it at Raoul, knowing that Gary wouldn't have been able to catch it. "Give that to him, he can chew it to relieve the pain momentarily until I can get it heated."

Raoul shrugged and walked over to his friend, handing him the tablet slowly, not sure if it--or she--could be trusted. "It's not poison or anything," Alanna muttered under her breath. "I'm going to go wash my hands in the fountain," she told them and slipped out.

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

Gary chewed it slowly, pushing it around his mouth, trying to make the honey-sweetness last longer before he swallowed. Like she said, his headache faded until it was at least bearable. "Hmm?" He just realized that someone had asked him a question. He raised his head and saw that Jon had returned with a pitcher of water.

"I asked you what she doing in your room."

He shrugged. "I don't know," he replied honestly. "She just seemed to appear inside and asked me something about healers and told me off for drinking too much."

Jonathan raised his eyebrows. "Weren't you the least bit suspicious? I mean this girl you've just met on the street just pops into your room wearing all black. She could be a thief or even an assassin."

"I was suspicious--painfully so, but then so was my headache. She offered to make me a cure because she was a healer--"

"Talking about me?" _she_ stepped inside. She looked glanced in the direction of Jonathan before turning her back on them and walking over the the fireplace. She ran her hands over a log, and purple flames jumped onto it, resuming the natural orange-red color as she pulled away.

"You have the Gift!" Jonathan accused.

"Maybe," she replied coolly. "But then so do you--if my guess is correct, which I find it usually is. It doesn't tell much about you--or me for that matter." She turned to Raoul. "I thought you were going to do introductions."

Raoul smiled sheepishly, looking a bit abashed. "Jon, meet...Hunter. And this is Jon."

Jonathan looked her over a second time. Wisps of her copper hair were escaping a thick, tight braid, and her startling violet eyes gave hint that she wanted to be left alone, but at the same seemed to want company. She was short--shorter than him by almost a head and a half. She wore a set of black silk clothes, with the exception of her boots, which was made of worn brown leather. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she was glaring at him.

"Did you know it's not polite to stare?" her tone showed clearly that she was not one to be messed with. She brushed past him to take the pitcher of water his was still holding.

Gary's hangover effects were beginning to return, but they were forgotten as he tried to keep from snorting with laughter. Who would have thought Jon would be ordered around by a short woman in to fetch and carry? He wondered what others would think of the Prince holding a pitcher of water and being scolded, or what she would think if she knew that it was the Prince she was talking to.

She walked across the room and raised her eyes to Jon again. "You forgot the pot."

He frowned. "What pot? You didn't ask for that."

"Well, I'm asking for it now."

"And who are you to be demanding so much?" he shot back, clearly irritated.

"Who do you think I am? You guess is as good as anyone else's, and I couldn't care more for your opinion. I don't even know why I'm helping your friend in the first place," she countered.

Jonathan straightened and regained a figure of his natural commanding aura. "My opinion should count, as the Prince, and I'm giving you an order to tell what you are doing in the palace."

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Her eyes widened and she smirked. "The Prince?" she asked in a disbelief. "I should have thought..."

"Yes, and I'd like to know who you are."

"And I'd be less likely to tell you than I would a pig," she replied prudishly. "Perhaps I'm a priestess of the Mother visiting...or maybe I'm really an assassin as you so generously dubbed me earlier." She gaze fell on a bowl on the bed stand beside Gary--whose hangover was returning in full force--and walked over to retrieve it. She poured half the water contained in the pitcher into the bowl and swept her bundle out again. Her hands darted through it before pulling out a smaller sack, this she dumped into the water before proceeding to kneel beside the fire's hearth.

A sound of annoyance escaped her lips as she realized there was no way for her to actually heat the water. She let out a exasperated sigh and pulled back: the bowl was floating in midair above the crackling flames. It was blocked from view as she moved in front of it. Her hands worked nimbly as she added more herbs from the pouches and did other things obscured from the three's sight.

There was silence as the water came to a boil, whereas she plucked it the blistering bowl off it's invisible perch and almost dropped in onto the desk. She shook her hands out and turned to face Gary. "Drink it as soon as it's cooled," she instructed deftly. Scooping up her possessions, she calmly left the room. As she passed Jon she paused. "We'll meet again. Though next time you won't enjoy it half as much as you did this time."

After she had left, he rolled his eyes. "Like I enjoyed it at all this time," he muttered. Her words were soon forgotten and pushed back to a dark corner of his mind.

"Is it ready yet?" Gary prompted through gritted teeth. "My headaches back."

Raoul went to get the bowl, but Jonathan raised an arm to stop him. "Are you sure it's safe? I mean she just came and left like that."

Gary groaned again. "Just give me it. If she wanted to kill me, wouldn't the tablet have done so?" He grabbed the bowl in his hands and blew. His tongue darted out and licked the surface. He shuddered. "Bitter." He quickly drained it, shuddering as he did. "It's almost as bitter Duke Baird's remedies." He set the bowl aside and leaned back, letting out a sigh of contentment. "So much better. Whatever it is, it works miracles for hangovers."

"You think we could get her to cook up some more for us in case you get drunk again?" Raoul wondered.

"Don't count on it," Jonathan intervened tartly.

"Aw, come on Jon. Don't be like that, she helped us, didn't she?"

"She was also in the palace when she wasn't suppose to be, and she evaded all our questions. Don't you two have _ant_ suspicions? I mean, of the fact other than she calls herself 'Hunter'?"

"Well, I suspect that you're too suspicious," Gary replied over-cheerfully. "And maybe she's just one of those people who seek attention, doing whatever. But who cares, her hangover cure is a miracle worker."

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

Alanna ran last night's happenings through her head again. It was so strange, one minute she was enraged over her _employer_ and the next she was cooking up a hangover cure that she hadn't used since that time in Carthak when a man had tried to drown himself with wine. He could hardly see straight when he woke up alone on the bar top, and without anything to ease it, had gone on something like a rampage. She was the only one around, as the barkeeper had wisely left through a back door. So naturally, he attacked her, until she...'fixed' the problem and sent him off to the local healer. From then on, she had made sure to keep a packet of emergency herbs in case something similar occurred.

But why did she help him? She honestly didn't know, was she really getting soft? After all, he was a complete stranger and the friend of a the soon-to-be-dead Prince. Now she bristled at her so called _employer_, who had commanded her _not_ to even try to kill him until she received orders through Terrin. Just who did he think he was? Her job could have been done the moment that idiotic Prince let out that he _was_ the Prince. But no, she had to wait for the beck and call of the master.

She pulled out a knife and slammed it on the table in front of her, the blade embedded itself in the softwood. The innkeeper wouldn't be happy, but then she wasn't happy either.

"Temper, Hunter. Never a good thing, and the innkeeper won't be pleased about the table," a certain someone voice her thoughts.

She swung around on her chair. "Do you know that when a door's locked, it means that the person inside does not want to be bothered? And if you know my temper, you'd better get out before I do something I might regret later--not that I will regret it, of course."

"Do you ever wonder why we repeat this scene every time we meet?" he questioned lightly.

"No, I don't--you just insist on intruding, so I insist on defending. It's simple."

"I expected so. You disappeared last night, where did you go?"

Alanna shrugged. "I was wondering the same thing. What happened between you two? The prince could have been dead by the time you finished talking." 

Terrin smirked. "What? Missed me?"

She snorted. "You wish."

He eyed her movements suspiciously as she tugged the knife out of the wood. When she didn't move to do anything, he relaxed his guard visibly. "Actually, I don't. And so as to satisfy your curiosity, you're to go to the palace--"

Alanna had stopped him by holding the knife up to his neck and twisting his hand behind his back. "If that sentence just so happens to end with the words 'lady', 'maid', 'mage', 'healer' or anything like that, you will find yourself dead before you're through."

"Doesn't give me many options, does it? So I guess I'll just have to..." Quickly, he brought his other hand up to grab her wrist, twisting it until he heard the sharp intake of breath that indicated she was in pain. The knife clattered to the ground and he flipped it to jump into his free hand while pushing her against the wall. He transferred the knife to his boots while she was still in shock from banging against the wall.

In this moment, she recovered and tried to slam her knee into his face; he artfully dodged it and stood up, grabbing her arms and slamming them up above her head and holding them in place with one hand.

"You--"

He moved his free hand to cover her mouth. "Was that an insult? I don't want to hear it. And don't try to kick, I can see it coming." Gently, he let his hand shift off her mouth.

"I'll insult to all I want," she hissed when he removed his hand. "Now let me go!"

"Not if you're acting like this, no. I suppose I'll just have to let you talk, but you know, this is actually a comfortable position," he told her ironically.

"You are Gods-cursed bastard with absolutely--" He silenced her this time by sliding his mouth over hers.

When he finally pulled away, she was breathless. Her lips were searing with fluid fire, and she wouldn't have been able to stand if he hadn't wrapped his hands around her waist to support her during the kiss. "You're a-a--" she croaked indefinitely.

Terrin threw her a grin. "You'll have a long time to think about what I am, there's no need to hurry. I just thought you might have wanted to practice being my betrothed for when we go to the palace."

"Your mother must have left your father for a boar," she croaked.

"Perhaps she did, but very sorry to interrupt you from telling my history, all the same. I think I'm going to take my leave now, it's getting late." He freed her and walked serenely out the door.

Alanna sank to her knees and let her head tilt back against the wall. She was a fool to let her guard slip around him, as she so often did. Like she did last night at the palace, like she did just now. He had been playing with her, she should have known. _That's two knives I've lost to him--my favorite included,_ she remembered. Right now, what she really wanted to do was kill someone--preferably Terrin, but that was close to impossible. He was better than her in most things, even if she wouldn't admit it. In fact, she wondered if he had any flaws.

_Oh yes, the fact that he's an crazed goatherd's bastard doesn't seem to help, either_, she thought glumly. Something whistled past her, missing her by an inch, embedding itself into the wall. She saw that it was one of her knives, pinning a piece of paper--a letter--to the wall.

She stood up and retrieved it, replacing the knife in its empty place in her boot. She opened the letter, smoothing it out on her thigh before reading it. She paled visibly as she did.

_Hunter,_

_Find someone--or somewhere--from which you can study the learnings required by the noble ladies of Tortall. I know you don't know any, for all you're a noble by birth. For in two month's time you're to meet me at Fief Riverswarth, west of Lake Tirragen. Our employer will send you the monies needed to outfit yourself for our excursion. Just find the hostler dressed in Conté livery at the stables near the South Gate. And when getting clothes, keep to lighter colors--just not so much black._

_As I hinted before, we are to enter the palace pretending to be a betrothed couple traveling to Corus before the wedding. Why we need to do this, I am still not sure, as our 'employer' did not discuss it thoroughly with me. I share your opinion in which it would be much easier to sneak in the palace and..._

_But he has informed me that we are to follow through with his plan to stay on the safe side. Of course you visiting the Prince and his friend's at midnight was unplanned and might upset the plot on the whole. I am leaving to arrange other things, do not do anything rash while I'm gone._

_And one last thing: your name. You cannot be called Hunter if you are to play along as my betrothed. No, you can't refuse to cooperate as you have already agreed to work under our 'employer'. I was thinking that you should take the name 'Alanna', after the late Lord Alan's daughter and the deceased Page Thom's twin sister. She disappeared after a strange and rumored incident in which she was supposedly sent to Carthak. You certainly look the part, for Page Thom was said to have had the same hair and eyes. Description's on his sister's looks are unconfirmed, as Trebond's servants won't talk, so you will fit in nicely._ _Find out all you can about Fief Trebond, I can pull strings and contracts to work this out._

_Don't stay angry for too long, it won't due for the one to be mad at one's betrothed--even if it's just play-acting. Remember that this is play-acting with lives on the line. Burn the letter._

_Terrin._

Alanna dropped the letter onto the ground, stepping over it to sit on the bed. Was it just a coincidence Terrin decided to use her real name as her 'play' name? Did he really know? And if the letter was all true--as she knew it was--she would have to face him again _and_ act as his betrothed. Her hands tightened into fists as she fumed over everything.

Then a sly smile crossed her face as an idea came to mind. She picked up the letter and re-read it and made sure she memorized every word of it's content. Once finished, she threw into the fireplace, lighting it with flames and turning it to ash. She was going to see George.

The only problem was that she didn't know where he was.

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

Notice how Alanna so pointedly refused to think about the kiss and refrained from even treating it like it even happened, which, of course, it did. So...how did you like the chapter? More Jon, and more Terrin...Terrin's kiss was sudden, I didn't even know he was going to do that until I was writing it...okay, maybe I planned it a few paragraphs before. But does this satisfy you all for now?

But anyway, there was amazingly, no questions. I must have scared everyone last time...that or you're learning patience! Now all I have to do is learn that, too.

And all you who want more interaction with Jon...he's in the next chapter. And as for those of you who want George...he's in the next chapter, too. In fact, just about everybody is in the next chapter, except Terrin (sorry?)...but maybe he'll pop up again. But I'm just warning you all (even if you're happy about it), the next chapter will be _very_ long; titled _Play-Acting_.

~Reaya


	12. Poison Frenzy

Chapter Ten ~ Poison Frenzy

She stood in front of a small, yet bustling in with a worn, wooden sign declaring it the Dancing Dove. She looked behind her, finding her young guide had disappeared, and shivered as the autumn wind picked up, billowing her skirts around her legs. She pushed open the door and blinked in the sight. The smoke was so thick that she could hardly see through, and the sounds of the men and women having fun was deafening. She guessed they were probably all rogues.

Someone grabbed her from behind, forcing her into their lap. She twisted out of his arms and pushed herself out of his way, upending his chair so he crashed to the ground. She smirked. Usually she didn't like making scenes, but sometimes there were exceptions. This was one of them.

The man sputtered as he choked on the beer he had been drinking before she had brought him crashing down. "Why you little--" he had to stop to dodge a fourscore of knives raining down on him.

She looked disdainfully at him and shot glares to the crowd which had gathered. She caught familiar hazel eyes watching her. She signaled for him to wait and turned back to the man cowering on the floor, expecting more knives. "Don't try that," was all she told them, her icy tone told the rest.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"You don't mean it!"

"I do, every single word. Can you get it or do I have to ask someone else?"

George shook his head. "You're out of your mind, lass. I would do many things for a friend, but _poison?_"

"So I'm considered a 'friend' to you now?" Alanna arched an eyebrow. "I'm not a _friend_. Never a _friend_," she continued, her tone more aloft and cold than it had ever been. She showed him her palm, on which a dagger sat, the light making it shine.

"_Friends_." She drew out the word, accenting each syllable until she stretched it misshapen. "_Friends_, would hesitate to kill you; I would not. _Friends_ and _Caring_ will hurt you." She took the dagger and carved a crooked line in the table.

"Alright, then. Not a friend, but I still couldn't—no, wouldn't—get you what you're askin' for. If I wanted to, you'd've had it already. And," he added. "I need to know what you want it for."

She pulled out several of her weapons, laying them unsheathed on the table. Each sharpened blade gleamed as it caught the dim light, scattering it across the rooms, leaving little rays playing over the walls and ceilings. She flexed the fingers on her right hand, using her other to prop her chin. She looked at him, her violet eyes bright, acidic and distant all at the same time. "What do you _think_ I want it for?"

"Not to kill someone? I'd've thought you'd have more honor than that!"

"What does the King of Thieves know about honor?"

"Plenty," was the reply. "Ever heard of the Code of the Rogue?"

The curves of her mouth snaked into a mocking smile. "Are you imposing on me the fact that I have no honor?"

George sighed. "You said you needed two things, what's the other?"

She sobered, a look of uncertainty crossed her face. Hesitantly, she began. "I need someone—a priestess, if possible—to help me, with…some things."

He tried to act attentive, but George couldn't keep all his amusement from showing. "To think I never'd've thought to live to the day when see you ask for help. From me, no less."

"Don't push it," she muttered. "Well?"

The Rogue was smiling openly now. "I think it's time you've meet my mother." A look of horror, surprise, and rage crossed her face. "Don't worry," he assured her quickly. "It's not that."

"But your_ mother_?"

"Yes. You know, the woman who birthed me? I have one, too, no matter what everyone thinks. I'm just worried you don't."

She let the second comment slide, brushing aside any mention of Trebond and her past. "You know I didn't mean that," she growled.

"I know very well what you meant. My mother's a healer—and was a priestess of the Goddess before that. You can trust her where you can't with me."

"Since when did I trust anybody?"

"True, but I'm trusting you to pretend. Now come on." He stood up from his table, eyeing her weapons. She shrugged and scooped them up, where they disappeared from her hands. "We're going to go upstairs."

"Why? You're mother lives there?"

"No, she's a tad disappointed I went into Rogue, and would never live at the 'Dove. I just don't want to go through the crowd, not with all the ruckus you caused comin'. There's more than one way out most places—but you know that already."

"George Cooper, are you teasing me? Because you do know that that could cost you your life."

He chuckled. "I like my life, thank you very much."

George led her out through window on the second floor to the stables. Inside, he pointed at a stall hosting her own horse. "You left her with Grayson and never picked her up," he explained. He whistled up a small stable boy, who looked oddly familiar. "Ready the lady's horse," the Rogue instructed. The boy scurried to obey.

Then it dawned on her. That was the same stable boy from Pearlmouth...but what was he doing here? She leaned against the wall, pondering over this while the stable boy obliviously did what he was told.

In a few minutes, he turned to her. "Ye horse be ready, ma'm." He looked up at her face, his eyes widening. "Ye-ye-ye _here_?"

She smiled wryly. "I was going to ask you the same question. How'd you come here?"

"T'was him—the man you were speakin' with afor's. He found me aft'a you left, he brough me 'ere. George said 'e'd take me and 'e did! 'e said I've been good with ta 'orses." He beamed, it was clear that he was happy now. She nodded and turned to George, who had been listening intently.

"You know Terrin?" she asked.

"Of course, he's a man of many connections. I fancied it was him you might be seeing—he mentioned as much."

"Me, seeing him? I don't remember that happening. He's just trailing me and showing up at the most annoying times, I'd like to poison him sometime."

"So it was for him?"

"Hmm?"

"The poison you were asking for," he clarified.

She shrugged and stepped into the stall, she took the lead reins and led the mare out. The stable boy rushed over and tugged her skirt. "I'm suppose ta do that, ma'm," he said gravely. She gave him a absent-minded smile and a pat, handing over the horse.

"What's his name?" she asked George once he was out of hearing distance.

"Why ask me? He's right over there." He pointed. When she scowled, he answered. "Accordin' to him, he's called Pek." He walked out, pausing only to call over his shoulder. "Are you comin' or not? It looks like it might rain if we dawdle any longer." Alanna didn't bother to reply. She mounted Starfall beside George's own chestnut mare.

They rode to the Street of Willows, stopping in front of gate marked with a wooden cup, circled once in red and once in brown—a healer's sign. George dismounted and unlocked the gate. He motioned for her to ride into the courtyard, led his horse in behind her and then closed the gate.

George's mother came to the door of the house. She was a tall woman, with her son's twinkling hazel eyes and and air of command. Only a single streak of white in her chestnut hair revealed her to be a little more than middle-aged. She looked from George, then to Alanna, and smiled. "Come on in, it's cold out there."

Alanna stepped down from the horse, looking around curiously. "Give her to the man; that's what he's here for," George told her. She shrugged and surrendered the reins.

She was ushered into a small, neat room. Healing plants of all kinds hung from the rafters, giving room a fragrant smell. Alanna recognized more than a few from her studies at the University. A small wooden table covered with a clean sheet sat in the room's corner.

"Do sit, it's been pretty long since George brought a visitor as exotic as you. George, you sit, too." Mistress Cooper folded her hands neatly into her lap.

"This is..." he tailed off as he realized he didn't know the name of the young woman sitting beside him. His mother raised an eyebrow.

Alanna wavered before making up her mind to tell them her name. After all, it was not like it was going to be kept secret for ever. "Alanna," she finished. George looked at her oddly but didn't say anything. "I wanted someone to help me with...some things, and George said you could help."

"It depends on your problem, but if George think I can help, then I probably can. What are these things you want me to help you with?"

Alanna turned to George and stared at him, indicating his dismissal. Mistress Cooper followed her gaze and smiled at her son. "Maybe you should go, you wouldn't want to be around when we start talking about women's things," she said. George gave a them a knowing smile and left. "He's a good boy, even though he's crooked. What was it, then?"

"Well..." she stopped. Standing up, she walked over to the door, jerking it open. She stuck her head out, catching sight of George's retreating back. "George!"

Mistress Cooper laughed. "I see you know his habits pretty well. Have you been with him long?"

Alanna shut the door. "Hmm? No, not very, but you can expect all men to act like that." She muttered something under her breath and closed her eyes, drawing out her Gift from inside.

"You must be a pretty good mage," the woman commented. Purple light now walled in the room.

Alanna shrugged and sat down again. "I picked up a few things here and there," she replied. Not a complete lie; she didn't really pay too much attention to the mages teaching at the University. Most of what they spoke about where theories and predictions, so she went ahead and ignored it all, choosing only to learn the more useful of the spells taught. "George told me you used to be a priestess," she began carefully, looking up to confirm this.

The healer nodded. "Yes, he told you the truth."

"I was wondering if you could help me outfit myself as a lady and teach me what things I need to know, but don't."

Mistress Cooper looked amused. "Why such a request?"

Alanna bit her lip. "Can you keep a secret?" she asked cautiously. "Don't tell George, or anyone."

"Of course."

She took a deep breath. "What George doesn't know—what no one in Tortall knows anymore—is that I was really born Alanna of Trebond. George didn't even know my name until earlier, when I told you. My twin brother was Thom, he died when we where twelve, at the palace. I lived in Carthak, studying at the University. I was there until a few months ago, after that, I came here. I wasn't very social there, and Carthaki Etiquette differs from Tortallan and so I didn't learn much there. But I'm to go to the palace with...my betrothed." She had to keep herself from wincing at the word.

"I see. So you want me to help you with what you should know. Does your betrothed know about your history?"

"Some—enough, I guess." She was grateful that the Healer didn't ask too many pressing questions.

Mistress Cooper studied the girl carefully. She could tell the girl didn't tell the complete story; she had secrets that she was going to keep at all costs. "I can help," she said slowly. "Do you have enough money? A noble lady is a very expensive creature."

"Money's not a problem. Do I need to pay you anything?"

"Of course not, I'd gladly help a friend of George's anyway. Do you still want my help?"

Alanna hesitated before nodding.

"Come back tomorrow, and we can start."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"How'd it go?"

"Fine," she replied tartly while saddling the mare.

"Why the bad mood?" George continued, leaning nonchalantly against the stable wall..

"Aren't I always in a bad mood?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Then you don't need me to answer." She mounted and nudged the horse to a walk.

George followed, walking in step. "Where are you going?"

"Somewhere you're not coming. Can you open the gate?" When he did, she gave him an impish smile. "Thank you," she said in her mocking tone and rode through without so much of a good-bye.

Navigating to the main streets was easy, but trying to go against the dense crowd was another matter. She gave up after being almost pulled off her horse (not that the person who did it got away unscathed, either) and chose to walk. She led Starfall into the nearest stable and paid to keep her there for the rest of the week, giving a few gold nobles to the stable boy to exercise her daily and headed back out.

It took her over an hour to get to the South Gate. Added to that was the time needed to actually find the stables and the hostlers in it. By the time she arrived at the inn where she was staying the sun had already set. She juggled the bag of nobles in her hand, thinking.

She was doing that too much lately...thinking. There used to be a time when she was emotionless—or at least close to that—but now she seemed to be actually feeling attachments to those she spoke to. She sighed and closed her eyes.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They were standing in a cheerful looking shop; brightly colored bolts of exotic materials adorned the walls and racks. A couple of stools stood in the center of the room, placed expertly in front of tall mirrors. The seamstress was a plump woman with a fake, but bright smile, and seemed always to have a look of agitation on her face while being attended by the shop girl, who stuck her nose up in the air when they had entered. Mistress Cooper nodded a greeting and was greeted with equal brightness.

"Welcome! I see you've brought me another customer."

"That I have. Alanna, this is Mistress Mida"

"What does she need? A dress to please a young man? A riding gown? A new skirt for her birthday, perhaps? Or maybe 'tis ye who needs one." The seamstress hovered around them expectantly.

"I'm not sure about her birthday, but yes, she needs a riding outfit. Perhaps several. You see, we need to outfit her with a whole set; she's going to go to the palace."

The shop girl goggled, suddenly not acting the snob. The seamstress nodded and waved them over to the back room where tea, cushions and table waited. "Ye all just take a seat, we've got to talk this out if it's a big purchase. 'ena, go fetch the cups, we've got business to discuss."

The shop girl stared for a moment, but did as she was told. She was back in a few minutes with blue inlaid teacups and plates of cake. She placed them in front of each, including herself, and took a seat. This seamstress was clearly a prosperous one. "Now, when do ye want as all ready?"

Mistress Cooper looked to Alanna. She thought for a moment. "Two months, sent to Fief Rivenswarth."

Mistress Mida nodded again. "With my weavers and seamstress's it shouldn't be as that long." She waddled over to the shelf set in the far corner of the wall and pulled out several books. She laid them on the table in front of Alanna and Mistress Cooper. "These are dress designs as ye can choose from, I can assure ye that they're the newest fashion."

Terrin had sent her another letter, giving her even more detail on the various things—like telling her to keep up with fashion—which had fanned her temper yet again. Mistress Cooper had to brew up a strong soothing tea to coax her into a better frame of mind before they began after she found out the number of dresses and accessories and manners she needed to get and learn in two months. She also warned her that they might be spending most of the week at a seamstress's shop. Not even ten minutes in the shop and it was already coming true. She vowed that she was going to get that poison to Terrin before the two months were up.

She stared blankly at the books. Mistress Cooper reached over and took one, opening it and flipping through the pages. She motioned for Alanna to do the same. Alanna diffidently opened one and Mistress Mida jumped to her side at once. She browsed through the pages, not really seeing them while the seamstress pointed out certain facts and styles. She nodded for her questions absently.

An hour or two later, they had come up with enough styles that Alanna felt could satisfy the whole of the Eastern Lands. Her head was all jumbled. Wasn't this the reason she had not wanted to go to the convent for? She became an assassin expecting never to have to enter the world of the simpering court ladies, and look how much good it had done her. She yawned and stretched, earning a disapproving look from Mistress Cooper.

Mistress Mida saw and smiled again, pulling them out to look at materials. Alanna let them take over completely this time as she tried to stifle another yawn. She was told to get on the stool while they measured her, expecting it to take long. But to her surprise, it was soon over and she was excused to go do what she willed.

"Alanna! You can go get some lunch while we talk." She sat up with a jerk and stood up quickly. "It's past lunch time, so you can go find someplace to eat. Just be sure to come back here within an hour or so," George's mother decided.

Alanna just nodded, she was only too glad escape. She was surprised when she looked up and found herself staring up at young man. He was slim and about half a head taller than her, with dark eyes and skin. He leaned against the inn's doorway in a cat-like stance. She blinked and straightened, jerking back to attention.

"Alanna, I presume?"

She frowned, how did he know her name? She was pretty sure she'd never seen him in her life. "Maybe I am, but that doesn't give you permission to express any interest in me," she retorted frostily.

"I see I've caught you in a bad mood," he responded.

She rolled her eyes. "What to you want? I don't have all day."

He nodded jerked a finger at the inn. "Step inside and we can talk over lunch. Unlike you, I have time."

She scowled, but entered. He led her upstairs and into a private suite complete with tables, food, and two chairs. "You were expecting me," Alanna mused aloud.

"That may be so. Sit."

She ignored him and tugged out two of her throwing knives. "Give me two reasons why you shouldn't be dead right now."

He smiled. "You were employed to kill the Prince, I don't believe I was a part of the contract."

She flipped one of the knifes into the air and sent the other one hurling at the door. There was a sharp intake of breath and both turned in time to see a maid listening beside the door. Her eyes flashing with anticipation, she vaulted out the room and caught the maid before she could flee.

"She's going to have to die, you know. It's a pity."

She turned around and glared at the man. "I am perfectly aware of that," she replied. Cocking her head she commented, "The body will be a problem, though."

The maid fainted and she jumped back. The cat-like man caught the dropped maid and carried her into the room. She followed, closing and locking the door behind her. "You or me?" she asked.

"You're the assassin," he replied.

She shrugged and pulled the knife out of the door. She walked over to the bedside, standing over the unconscious body. Suddenly, she felt herself go rigid. Composing herself, she looked from the man to the maid; she couldn't kill someone innocent, it wasn't the maid's fault that she was there at the wrong time. "It would be a waste, you know. If there was a silencing spell, she wouldn't be able to talk. I need a maid to complete my guise, why go out of the way to find one when we have one here?"

"First off, there's no silencing spell."

"I can cast one, it's not very hard."

"The Gift?"

"Maybe," she twirled the weapon in her hand and drew out her Gift. The maid glowed purple, then opened her eyes, a look of horror on her face as she stared at the knife. "Don't worry," Alanna told her. "I won't kill you. Just don't repeat what you heard and you'll be fine."

"You're threatening her? So you're spell didn't work?"

"Of course it worked," she snapped. "I'm just warning her, that's all. If she says it she dies, how else will she know if I don't tell her?"

He looked at her skeptically and shook his head. "You," he instructed the maid. "Tell your master that you won't be able to work here anymore and return immediately."

The girl nodded and hurried off.

Alanna gave a wry grin. "Now, how about lunch?"

"You're a lot more trouble than you're worth," he muttered.

"I'm so glad you've noticed."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Where have you been?" Mistress Cooper demanded when she returned to the shop. That's _three_ hours you've been gone, and we still have a lot to do."

She didn't wait for Alanna say her excuses, instead, pointing at the door and pulling her out.

Over the next few weeks, she was taught how to do most of the things she needed to know to pass for her stay at the palace. One of the dresses arrived from Mistress Mida, and Mistress Cooper made her parade around her house in it. They bought enough ornaments and jewelry needed to outfit the entire population of women in Corus (or so Alanna felt) and went shopping enough that Alanna never wanted to step into the streets again. She also received a note from her employer and two from the cat-like man she had met, telling her the maid had been secured to work under her when she arrived. She didn't have time to visit the 'Dove, and therefore never caught sight of George.

Everything was done in a frenzy, and she expected to give out any moment.

The only good that had come from this was the poison she had bought at an apothecary when Mistress Cooper wasn't looking. Now she could kill Terrin, _and_ the anonymous man, _and_ her employer.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Okay, I lied. This chapter was not called play-acting, that's the next chapter. And yes, Terrin will be in there. I didn't know so many of you like him (okay, maybe I had hints, but....)

I had a very hectic time writing this chapter and I hope it'll scrape through. Alanna doesn't seem in character (well, for this story, anyway) when she's with Mistress Cooper, but how would you feel going shopping 24/7. Wait, some of us like that. Instead, how do you think _Alanna_ would feel?

But anyway, this time I'm sure the next chapter will be _Play-Acting_ and will contain the following: Terrin, Alanna meeting Jon, Fief Riverswarth, the maid, the employer (you should know who he is by now), the anonymous man (you know him too. The descriptions told everything, and I don't care if he was ooc) and more. *sigh*

~Reaya


	13. PlayActing

**_Chapter Eleven ~ Play-Acting_**

The depths of her eyes showing the feelings she had hidden on long nights past. She looked forlorn, sad, remorseful, and almost vulnerable. Soft fold of crimson velvet fell in soft folds around bare feet. Her violet eyes seemed old, so very old. But she couldn't even be twenty yet! She gripped the hilt of the dagger softly, and with deadly skill. 

Her eyes closed, shutting away her soul. The knife reluctantly left her hand and she dropped to a sitting position. Pulling her knees close, she leaned back against the stone rail; a tear welled up and slid down her face, disappearing in the darkness of night. A sadist smile crossed her lips and she opened her eyes again, meeting his own without a trace of disturbance or surprise. Instead, a hunter's haunting and lethal expression surfaced. He broke the gaze and retreated back into the darkness. 

The small figure on the balcony pushed herself to her feet and swept inside. 

**

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

**

Alanna watched with narrowed eyes as the maid scurried around the room, supposedly doing her job of serving the Lady. But she wasn't a lady; she had never been and didn't want to. Oh, maybe there had been a tiny part of her that had wanted, it had been miniscule then, but it didn't exist now. Her dreams had been shattered, but this was better than nothing. She paused. _Was it?_

She shrugged the the thoughts away, turning to more important matters. Three months. Three months in Tortall already...had it really been that long? Mistress Cooper had taken every waking minute of the two long months to toil over this and that, always fussing. She knew the woman was being kind, and she was doing this despite the fact that she was getting no rewards, or even gratification for it. She wondered why the Rogue's mother had agreed to it. There was no gain, and she had lost time she usually reserved for her patients. Of course, Alanna had never brought this up, she had learned from the times. 

And as if that hadn't been enough, the month at Terrin's Fief Riverswarth had been sheer torture. They had constantly bickered at the beginning—she was fine with that, in fact, she welcomed it—but after the first week of hectics, Terrin changed. He avoided her, but spoke politely to her whenever they happened to meet, as protocol demanded. She was puzzled by this, never in her life had someone acted like this to her. 

She mulled over the long pause in the fencing lessons, but tried to assure herself that it was better not to be around Terrin. But then, on the day before they were supposed to leave, he suddenly sprang on her the talk which they should have had when she'd first arrived. 

She had reacted less surprised than she really was when he told her the fact of which he was from the Copper Isles—a second son of someone or the other, she hadn't really heard or brought herself to pay attention—his mother had been an heiress to the fief, Riverswarth. It was small and unheard of most places, but it was a fief. He had said nothing about the whereabouts of his parents, the fief, or any more about the plan. Just a silver band studded with a moonstone. If memory served, it was at the bottom of one of her trunks; she wasn't sure which one. She smiled wryly to herself and gave a soft laugh. 

The maid turned around and looked at her in surprise, almost at the door. She looked her over critically and curtsied, leaving the room a bit too fast to be natural. Alanna sighed, now the maid would gossip to the other servants. She predicted that there was going to be a rumor about the new (and betrothed) lady at court, who might be mentally imbalanced. 

She grimaced and walked over to the canopied bed, on which a creamy silk and satin gown lay. The maid had learned early on that this lady did not like to be fussed over...by _anyone_. Alanna stripped and donned the lighter gown, which was to be for their welcoming reception. "Don't know why he didn't think to tell me _before_ the last minute about that oh-so-unimportant fact of his mother being a 'friend of the queen', and that we have our own wel—" 

"Talking to yourself? That's not very healthy, are you sick?" Terrin asked smoothly as he stepped into the room. She glanced at the door, which was supposed to be _locked_. 

"No, but you are." She glared daggers at him. "And it is also unhealthy to walk in on an assassin while she is changing, if you haven't noticed." 

He looked her over, noticing that she wasn't fully dressed; patches of skin were still uncovered. "You know, you don't look half bad that way," he remarked calmly. 

She glared daggers at him. "You perverted—" 

Once again, he had stopped her from finishing a sentence by clamping his hand over her mouth. "Don't say anything and I don't have any reason to do anything drastic." 

She pushed him away and continued dressing, cheeks flaming faintly, trying to ignore his dancing eyes. "I think I liked it better when you were moody," she muttered under her breath. If he heard her, he ignored it well. She strapped on the matching white shoes which had been left out for her at the foot of the bed and walked over to the tables. Grabbing a comb, she began running it through her hair, wincing as it caught the tangles in the mass of copper. 

Terrin was behind her. _I have to stop letting him do that_, she thought. Plucking the comb out of her hands, he pointed at the seat. Watching him with suspicion, she grudgingly sat. She moved until he was behind her again, and surprised her by the feel of soft hands gently untangling her hair. 

She whipped around and stared at him, frowning. "Who gave you the right to come in here in the first place?" she demanded. 

Terrin pointed at her ring finger, but when he spotted no ring paused, but continued to untangle her hair. "You know that you have to wear it, or people will get suspicious," he started, not missing a beat. 

"I can't find it," Alanna replied resolutely. 

"Alanna, my dear—" Alanna jumped at the usage of her given name, which put together with 'dear' startled her to an extreme extend. "Your new name, remember?" 

She again wondered if Terrin knew the truth, he seemed to know so many things. "I suppose," she replied, her spirits dampened for the night. She twisted a piece of loose thread around her fingers, playing with it, relaxed at the soothing strokes of the comb in her hair. She didn't realize that he was the one combing—or in fact that he was there—until he set it down and offered to call the maid. 

"What?" 

He looked smug and amused, and that irritated her beyond anything. "The maid, Alanna, dear. To curl your hair—as much as I like combing it, I do not curl hair." 

She found her train of thought again and threw him a hostile look. "I wouldn't have guessed if you hadn't told me," she replied tartly. "You seemed to excel at the art of combing hair, too, along with your other skills." She stood up to try to get him out of the room. "Go call the maid, then, I don't care." 

He gave her another look-over before leaving. She probably didn't notice, but the cream cloth contained teasing hints of violet woven in, to bring out and accent her amazing and startling eyes. The gown itself was a work of perfection, whoever she had hired to accommodate her had certainly done her work well. Being only slightly off her shoulders, it was tight around her upper arm, loosening until they billowed and hung artistically at her side. The skirts that draped from the contrasting black bodice and swathed her legs were neither to too loose or too tight. The gown suited her to the last detail. 

Smiling lightly, he reminded her of the ring and her duty, before crossing the threshold into his own adjourning room. He heard the click of the lock fall into place after the young woman had slammed the door shut quickly after him. 

**

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

**

Terrin knocked thrice and waited. The door swung open to reveal his "betrothed's" hair curled into striking ringlets and piled on her head to give her height. From what he could tell from the scowl on her face, it didn't please her. She stuck her head out and looked around, pulling him in. "I want to show you something." 

_Since when did she show me anything?_ He wondered. "The only thing I could imagine you showing me is the way to death," he commented mockingly. 

She gave a twisted smile. "It's my most revered wish," she replied brightly. She had gotten a glass containing red wine in the time he was gone. She dug out a ruby from somewhere and showed it to him. There was a soft_ clink_ as it was dropped into the cup. 

Terrin watched with raised eyebrows as the gem melted away, leaving the red drink undisturbed. Reaching over, plucked the glass off the table, raising it into the air for inspection. "It's poison," he noted. "I thought you were supposed to spend the money on jewels, not this." 

She shrugged and pulled out a small sack. Clearing away the space before Terrin, she emptied the contents. Clear-cut diamonds, garnets, rubies, opals, and jewels of every color shimmered before him. She watched him expectantly. 

"All poison, I presume?" 

She smirked, plucking a diamond out of the pile. She took a glass of water and dropped it in; the liquid fizzed for less than a second before settling. "No residue or any visibility." She ran her hand over it making the cup glow purple, then white. "Undetectable by magic, unless the mage happens to be more powerful than me." 

"Is there any reason to why you're showing me this? Or is it just to prove that you can spend your time following your whims and I can't?" 

She laughed. "I just wanted to warn you to watch what you eat or drink from now on," she replied good-naturedly and swept the rest into the sack. 

"I see you've learned to flirt somewhat." 

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't try me," was all she said before walking to the window and staring out, refusing to even notice his presence. 

He sighed and moved to stand beside her. "Aren't you going to get rid of the glass? You can't pour the wine outside, it'll poison the plants," he pointed out. 

She shrugged and took the glass from him, draining the glass within a minute. His eyes widened, but then fell on the Carthaki bangle dangling on her wrist. "I should have guessed," he drawled. "You do know that showing off like that could kill you one day." 

"I didn't know you cared." She set the glass down and wiped the blood-like wine off the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand and walking out the door into the hallway. 

"You're right, I don't," he said softly. 

"Are you coming? We're going to be late if we don't leave now." 

"I didn't know you cared," he scoffed, echoing her words. 

**

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

**

Alanna stopped him when they were almost at the party room. "What kind of socialization was this again?" 

"A get-together, nothing really formal. The Queen just wanted to 'welcome a son of an old friend', or at least that's how she put it." He glanced down at her. "You have the ring on?" 

"Of course," she replied stately. Cocking her head to the side, a thoughtful look appeared in her eyes. "Is the Prince going to be there?" 

"Of course, he's her son after all, if you didn't know. See, the son of a Queen would usually be the Prince," he replied sardonically. 

"Of course," she echoed smugly, a vile gleam in her eye. 

Terrin thought it over and grabbed her wrist to keep her from walking ahead. "You brought one of those jewels, didn't you? You know you can't poison him on the first day." 

"I didn't bring the jewels, if you're going to fuss and worry anymore; hire yourself out as a nurse. Children will appreciate it more than I will." In an after thought, she added: "Plus, they don't know the handling of sharp weapons." 

"If you are referring to the sword, you don't, either," he retorted and stepped up beside her, offering an arm. 

She took it hesitantly; play acting was going to be harder than she originally thought. 

A footman was waiting by door, when they presented the paper which was the formal invitation; he opened the door, welcoming them. The second they entered, Alanna felt the attention shift. 

The Queen, a frail and somewhat pale-looking woman walked up to them, she smiled happily and took her hand. "Lady Alanna, welcome to Tortall!" she said to Alanna. "I'm so glad that I finally get to meet the woman Valetta's second son is going to marry. I've heard about it for months, it's strange how I didn't get a letter from Valetta herself though; I suppose it's harder overseas..." Alanna smiled reluctantly back, her smile as fake as the guise of the betrothed she donned for her real mission. "And you are the twin of Page Thom? He saved my son's life, and I am in Trebond's debt for that. It is sad you had not returned to Tortall until now. How _was_ Carthak?" 

She smiled weakly, it was not exactly the best of things to do when her past was brought up. "It was fine Your Majesty, but perhaps a bit too hot. I found it so different from here." _And so much more mundane, _she added to herself in a sarcastic thought. 

The Queen nodded, and she was relieved when the older woman turned her attentions to Terrin. "How is your mother?" 

If he was uncomfortable, he didn't show the slightest hint. "She's doing fine, your Majesty. I have a younger brother now." 

"Valetta was always a terrible letter writer," she mused. "When did this happen?" 

"Thirteen years back, Your Majesty." 

She nodded and led them to the table, where a manservant proceeded to seat them. The King, of course, sat at the head of the table, and the Queen beside him. Beside her sat a man who she supposed was her brother, Duke Gareth, who she had heard about from Mistress Cooper during the protocol lessons. They had been the only ones already seated, to her surprise, the rest of the inhabitants of the room where all young men and women, around her age. A blond woman was introduced to her as Princess Josiane from the Copper Isles; Terrin seemed almost reluctant to greet her. 

As she continued looked around, she found that she recognized two of them. The Prince, of course, and Gary. She suspected that they also recognized her, from the way they were staring. There was no exchange of words, for the meal was quick to begin. The rest of the evening merged into each other. Because it had been an 'informal' gathering—though it had seemed very formal to Alanna—of only those of high rank, or personal friends and family of the monarchs and their son, there was no dancing. 

Three things stood out that night more than anything else, though. The first was when Prince Jonathan and Gary—introduced formally as Sir Gareth the Younger—approached her, and her acting skills were put to the test. 

"I did not know that you were a noble lady," Gary mused. "Not since you walked the streets freely the last time we met." There was a lull as he thought whether or not to apologize. "I'm sorry for being...in the state I was, that time."

"No need," Alanna picked up smoothly, a trick she had picked up from Terrin. "You did not know who I was, then."

"So you are betrothed to Lord Terrin, are you not?" the Prince interrupted.

She gave another small, forced laugh; this was starting to sicken her. "I am," she replied, as solemnly as she could, which was not very. "But I don't see where it concerns you," she muttered.

He frowned, but let it be, choosing to ignore it. Both men bowed and left, leaving Alanna with a smirk on her face.

The second was on the balcony, where Terrin had taken her to talk. As always, she grew annoyed, and ended up with him returning inside alone while she studied the waning moon. She had thought she saw eyes watching from the tall oak tree, whose upper branches were level with her face. They disappeared when she threw a knife at it, though. Unfortunately, this also brought a few of the young men running. 

"Is there something wrong?" one of them had asked. 

She was ready to snap back at them, but stopped. Instead, she said in hr sweetest voice: "There were eyes in the tree, and it gave me a scare. They disappeared when you came, though." 

Most of the others had accepted the story as a fact, but bother the Prince and his cousin where suspicious. Which of course, had nothing in common with the third and last memorable event, which couldn't be considered one, since it was also a dream. 

_A door. A wooden door, with a knife embedded in the middle—her knife. The door seemed familiar too, but she couldn't seem to be able to place it._

Then nothing. 

**

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

**

I can't seem to be able to write stories without mysterious happenings, can I? Or dreams, or balconies. Oh, and descriptions of dresses. Or a mysterious guy. *-*

It was a long-ish chapter, what do you think? Darn. I forgot that I promised to put in Roger and the guy-who-everyone-knows-is-Alex in this chapter. See, I hate promises. *bangs head against wall*

Below are the questions for chapter 9 and 10, since I forgot last time:

Question:** Is Alanna going to tell Jon about Thom soon?**

Answer: Well...let's let her get on associating terms with Jon first, before we move on to that. One thing I can say is, Jon is _probably/maybe_ going to play a _kinda_ big part in the next chapter. I'm not sure...

Question: **When Alanna finds out that it's Roger that sent the fever will she stop trying to kill Jon?**

Answer: I don't know...I'll ask her if you want.

Question: **I****s George going to show up again?**

Answer: Yes, definitely.

Question: **Who is Terrin going to be going as?**

Answer: *points up*

Question: **What're the prince and his friends going to think of 'Lady Alanna'?**

Answer: Tell you what, just wait a bit more.

Question: **Is there anything that's going to happen with Terrin and Alanna?**

Answer: Huh? What gave you _that_ idea? *walks away whistling innocently*

I don't know why I bother to post Q&A since half of them go unanswered, maybe it's to make the chapter _seem_ longer.

~Reaya


	14. It Isn't Me

**_Chapter Twelve ~ It isn't me_**

Sitting crossed legged on the ground, leaning against the dresser, Terrin watched Alanna through half lidded eyes. She was breathing softly, apparently peaceful in her sleep. Suddenly, she sat up and stared forbearingly at the door, shivering. Then it was as if someone turned on a switch and she snapped to alertness again, cocking her head a him, she asked, "What, in Mithros's name, are you doing in my rooms?" she asked frostily.

He gave her a wide grin and stood up, walking through the open door into his own room. "You forgot to bolt your side of the door," he called back. He could feel her eyes glaring at her, he felt tingles run along the back of his neck.

The expected dagger whizzed a scant inch over his head. Sighing, he turned back at the glowering young woman. "_Never_, _ever_, come in my room again," she stated, drawing out the words, accenting the first two especially. "If you do, I will—" she stopped mid-way through. He followed her gaze to the dagger, now stuck in the wood of the other door.

Turning back to her, he raised an eyebrow.

The only answer he received was having the door slammed in his face, hearing the thump of the bolt as it fell into place.

Alanna let out her breath sharply. She had remembered why her dream had been so confused and familiar. The knife in the door—it was _his_ door, her 'employers'. She chided herself for her superstitions. A shadow past by the open window. She frowned, she had especially remembered having closed it before she went to bed. Frowning, she walked across the room to the window, shivering again as a chill wind entered the room.

Those eyes again. Large, purple ones, leering at her from the darkness. She reached for the Gift which flared at her beck, light flooding to her hand, illuminating the figure outside her window.

The black cat jumped through and landed silently on the wooden flooring, scampering across the ground to jump onto the bed. A cat. All this time, a _cat_ had been shadowing her. Even if it was a violet-eyed, black and mysterious cat, it was nevertheless, a cat.

"Is there a reason for you intruding on my life?" she asked the animal harshly, words jumping from her mouth before she realized they had left her.

The cat mewed; Alanna could have sworn it had taken a mocking tone. She glanced out the window, there was nothing else there, the forbearing feelings seemed to have left her. "Off the bed," she instructed, then scolded herself for foolishly talking to an animal.

The cat just stared back at her with large, violet eyes so like her own. She shuddered and sat down on the bed next to it. The minute she was seated, the animal jumped into her lap, ordering to be petted. She sighed and gave in, soothing herself with it's momentous purring, relaxing more than she had in a long time. Slowly, she drifted into dreamless sleep.

**

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**

Alanna was jerked awake the next morning by a sharp knocking sound at her door. She sat up quickly and felt a sharp pain at her shoulder, finally noticing the black cat again. She made a face as the blood oozed out, but pushed herself off the bed, anyway. "Scat," she mumbled. "Go find someone else to annoy before you end up as minced meat."

Yawning and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she fumbled for her clothes. As she pulled on a pair of fawn breeches, the knock came again. Cursing silently at herself, she slipped out of them grabbed a dress. "Wait a bit, I'll be right there!" she called gruffly to whoever was outside, trying to refrain her unruly mood from entering her tone.

Hurriedly, she laced up the bodice of the cream dress, and opened the door, all the time murmuring profanity about the person who woke her. She looked up blinkingly into brilliant sapphire eyes. "My Prince," she said in the sweetest voice she could conjure. "May I be so bold as to ask what brings you here, to my room, so early this morning?" Her tone was clearly a mocking one, but her phrasing prevented anyone from speaking out against her.

He looked mildly surprised. "I was told this was Terrin's room...he agreed to go hunting this morning," he replied stiffly, but was unable to prevent notes of curiosity from sounding.

She hid a smirk and replied slowly and carefully. "My Lord takes occupation in the next room, he did not inform me of his going-ons."

He nodded and turned to leave, but stopped. "Why were you avoiding me and Gary yesterday?"

She forced a smile. "I was not purposely avoiding you or Sir Gareth," she murmured. "I was simply busy with others." Her fake smile increased. "Of course, if Sir Gareth were to get another hangover..."

"So it is you, and that's why you were evading us," he mused.

"I assure you that—" she stopped as Terrin's door opened and he stepped into the hall.

"Assure what?" he asked of her, bowing to the Prince.

"Nothing, my lord," she replied lightly, smirking as she saw Terrin's surprise. She dipped a curtsy. "You must excuse me for my state of dress, you woke me up unprepared, you see. And of course I'll join you on the hunt; just wait her for a bit." She backed into the room and closed the door, leaving two extremely puzzled young men in her wake.

The two exchange a look of similarity. "Did you just offer to take her hunting with us?" Terrin asked. "Because you do know that everything is going to turn out horribly if she comes, right?"

"I had no idea I said anything to her." Then curious, he asked, "Why?"

"You don't want to know."

Jonathan believed him.

It was not long before she reappeared in tan riding skirts; her hair plaited and wearing soft brown leather boots. She gave them a very bright—and very fake—smile. "Do you want to lead the way, your Highness?" she asked in her new oily-sweet voice.

He nodded slowly and began to walk down the hall. Alanna followed him, Terrin at her side. "What's wrong with you?" he hissed. "Are you sure you didn't eat something wrong last night, or did I give you that much of a scare?"

"Scare?" she frowned, she didn't remember anything. "—oh! That." A murderous smile on her lips, she produced a gray moonstone like the one on his sword. "Made especially for you, My Lord."

He let out an exasperated sigh and quickened his steps to catch up with the Prince.

**

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

**

Gary slumped in his saddle, stifling a yawn. "Did I tell you that she was there yesterday?" he asked his bigger friend.

"Who?" Raoul frowned. "And where was this? I doubt you told me anything."

"I didn't? Well, that 'thing' me and Jon went to last night? To welcome one of the Queen's friend's son or some other and his betrothed? Well, guess who the betrothed was."

"I give up, who?"

Gary scowled. "You didn't even think about it."

He shrugged. "So? You're going to tell me anyway, so why waste the effort to try?" He dodged an incoming acorn thrown his way. "Hey! Watch it, will you?" Looking around the change the subject, he asked, "Where's Jon? I thought he was coming with us."

"You're changing the subject on purpose! He went to get Terrin—or whatever his name was," Gary muttered in reply. "And it was _her_, if you forgot. Red hair, purple eyes?"

"Oh, _her_. What was she doing there?"

"Haven't you been listening _at all_?"

"No," came the cheerful answer. "But then again, I don't get drunk, do I?"

"Oh no? What about—" The sound of horses approaching quieted him. They didn't wait long before Jonathan and entered the clearing, closely followed by Terrin bantering with an anonymous cloaked figure. She threw back the hood to reveal malicious violet eyes and a smile that was less than friendly. Gary looked at them with raised eyebrows.

Jon shrugged. "She wanted to come," was his only explanation.

"Right," Gary smiled. "Don't tell me you didn't invite her."

"I didn't," Jonathan pressed indulgently. "She just came...I don't know how you put up with her." He addressed this last sentence to Terrin, who had urged his horse away from his betrothed.

"I don't," he replied, smiling. "I just deal with her."

Someone coughed loudly beside them. "You do know that it's impolite to talk about people behind there back, don't you all?—more so when this person is me and happens to be present." She gave them another ironic smile and headed down the path.

"Somebody's in a bad mood," Gary commented.

Terrin seemed amused. "Actually, she's in a good one. Usually we would have found ourselves on the edge of a knife by now, it's amazing that we aren't."

"Then why are you marrying her?" Jonathan wanted to know.

"Who said I was?" Terrin grinned, tugging at the reins. "I might be dead by the the Wedding."

"I heard that!" the subject of their talk called back over her shoulders. "And don't think you won't be for a minute. Are you coming or not?"

"Hmm. She's not your average woman, is she?" Jonathan asked in a staged whisper. And louder, "Does she know she has a black cat following her?"

The horse ahead stopped suddenly, it's rider slid off and turned around and hissed. "What are _you_ doing here?"

The men blinked and looked to the cat calmly washing it's paw.

"Does she often talk to cats?"

"Not that I know of, no."

"Well then..."

**

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

**

Alanna sighed sank against the tree. The garden was quiet at midnight, with only the sound of dripping water and the occasional chirp of the crickets. The moon peered out from behind it's clouded perch above the leafless tree. She grimaced at her lap, which hosted shimmering silk. "It isn't me," she breathed at the air.

"What isn't you?" a commanding voice interrupted her musings.

She looked up at the Prince, a scowl crossing her lips. "Why being me, of course." Her words dripped of loathing. "It just isn't me." 

"That doesn't make sense," he scoffed.

"No, it doesn't, does it?" her tone had taken the sharp edge of their first meeting. "Of course someone risking their life for you doesn't, either."

He looked at her sharply. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You said—"

"I didn't say _anything_," she insisted in a monotone voice. Then picking up a sly tone, she added. "I merely implied that you shouldn't be here, alone, with someone else's betrothed."

"You didn't."

"And what make's you an expert of what I do and don't. I think you should leave." She nodded at the dagger that seemed to have appeared on the grass beside her.

He stared at it, then her for long moments. Then shaking his head, he turned and walked away. As he did, she heard him mutter to himself, "She's crazy, that's all."

Smiling wryly to herself, she laughed softly. "I am, aren't I?" she said to the cat who had jumped down from the tree to settle by the knife.

_You are. But it isn't you._

She frowned. "Did you just—?" She shook her head and shrugged off the eerie feeling that had come over her again.

**

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**

A slightly pointless chapter, but you asked for it. You wanted interaction didn't you? You got it. So this is the last update before school starts. Bleh. Next one covers a Masquerade Ball, cliché, I know, but don't care. Of course I just might change my mind later and change it, so....

Oh yes, little snippet of convo added between Gary, Jon, and Alanna in the last chapter.

Question: **Could you contrive to actually answer some of the questions next time?**

Answer: You mean I'm not really answering them now? That's too bad.

Question: **Will Alanna fall in love with Jon?**

Answer: um....well....*cough*....uh....I can't tell.

Question: **Can Alanna _please_ kill Terrin?**

Answer: *looks horrified* No, no, don't even _ask_. Of course he wouldn't really die even if she did kill him because I gave him to Min (theBlindAssassin) for her birthday and....

Question: **Can I kill you because you are giving me too much suspense?**

Answer: Hmm...well, I guess you _could_, if you wanted, but then the story would never be completed and then there'd be even _more _suspense. So, no?

Question: **Are they (Raoul, Gary, etc.) _ever_ going to recognize her?**

Answer: Well...I guess they _are_ suspicious, but they wouldn't have to anymore, right? *waves* Hi Jen!

~Reaya


	15. New Prospects

**_Chapter Thirteen ~ New Prospects _**

Alanna sat rigidly against the headboard of the bed, petting her new pet absent-mindedly with one hand while holding a glass of red wine in the other, brooding over untouchable subjects. Thom was dead, she knew that, accepted it. No, not accepted. If she accepted it, she wouldn't still be thinking about it. So why didn't she accept it? 

_You know, if you keep thinking like that, you're going to end up drinking the wine you poisoned._

Alanna shot a look at the cat, whose comments where still disturbing, if not surprising. After numerous and unsuccessful times of trying to convince herself that she was hallucinating from the tediousness of this place, she had finally just accepted that the cat talked--well, almost anyway. She learned it was better just to listen and accept rather than argue with herself and the cat. 

"That's nice to know; now scat," she snapped. Like always, he ignored the comment, but at least he didn't talk anymore. She returned to her thoughts-or tried to anyway. 

"What's on your mind?" a deep, rich voice asked. "You look fit to kill." 

"You use that term _so_ lightly," she replied sarcastically, "and don't you think it's the perfect term to apply to an assassin? I do." She was irate and not in the best of moods. 

"No, it's not a very good term, is it? Let me try a better one," Terrin replied evenly while she glowered at him. "You know, now you look as if you just found out that you were marrying the Prince and trying to take out your anger on me." 

The sip of wine Alanna had taken while trying to calm her anger came spurting out, sprinkling the spotless white silk tunic with stains. He wrinkled his nose, a habit he had whenever someone dirtied his clothes or possessions. "Did you have to do that? I just had it cleaned." 

"I feel so sorry..." Alanna muttered. 

He smirked. "Glad to know you care." 

"...For the maid for the maid who will have to clean that," she finished. Wiping the remaining wine from her lips with the sleeve of her shirt, she looked up at him with her darkest glare. "Now, I hope I didn't just hear what I thought I heard. Would you be so polite as to repeat it?" she asked through gritted teeth. 

He looked at her reproachfully, then leaned over and dabbed at her lips with his own sleeve. "You still have wine on it," he informed her. And don't say that I didn't help you when you spat that all over me. If my guess is correct, it was one of your poisoned samples." He flicked at a piece of invisible lint on his pants, giving him a look of careless casualness. "And it's not like you _wouldn't_ look that was if the wedding happened." 

"To you or to the Prince?" she quizzed, ignoring his earlier comments. Without waiting for a reply, she continued. "Of course if either of those weddings happen, you're invited to the funeral which should be scheduled on the same day. And you look like a fish." 

Terrin raised his eyebrow. "Why, thank you," he answered as sincerely as he could. "It'll be the first wedding-funeral combination I would have been invited to." A pause. "Am I invited to the wedding, too, then?" 

Alanna threw the glass-with the remaining wine-at him. Terrin ducked, his eyes laughing as he straightened. "I'll take that as a yes," he muttered darkly, trying to hide the fact that he was amused. "I am so sorry for the maid who will have to clean that up," he mocked and exited quickly before she had a chance to throw something else at him, or worse, muss up his clothes even more. 

_I told you so,_ her cat finished smugly for him, then jumped off the bed to follow Terrin out. Alanna stared after them both for some time after that. With a sigh, she decided to take a nap before her migraine worsened. 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

Waking up feeling bored and restless, she decided to get out of the palace. She dug out a pair of cotton breeches and a light wool shirt, tugging them on quickly. She crossed the threshold of the door behind her just as fast, trying to avoid catching anyone's attentions as she made her way through the palace. Unfortunately, this wasn't the case. 

"Where do you think you're going?" The dark young man lounged back against the wall, studying her face with careful anticipation. She was caught in the middle of an open courtyard. She recognized him as the one she had met before in the city. Her employer's errand boy, other than Terrin, that was. 

The corner of Alanna's mouth twitched into a frown. "Since when did you become my mother?" she asked irritably. 

"Do you always act like that?" 

"Like what?" 

"Like you're in a bad mood. Now, will you stop answering my questions with questions?" 

"Why don't you stop asking questions, then?" 

The man sighed and lifted his hands in defeat. "Okay, then. We'll try this again. Hello, Alanna. Where are you going this fine morning?" 

Alanna raised an eyebrow, changing her laugh into a cough. "Out," she replied quickly. 

"Talkative, aren't we?" 

"Well, it's not exactly morning, is it? The sun's setting." 

He chuckled. "No it isn't, but where _exactly_ are you going?" 

"Out; I told you that already." She turned her back on him and took a step away. 

"You've been associating with the Prince lately, haven't you?" he spoke up suddenly. 

She froze in mid-step and turned on one foot, eyes glinting angrily. Walking back to him, she crossed her arms under her breast. "How do you know _that_?" she snapped. "And what is it to you?" 

"I know, because I do," he replied in a monotone voice. "I just thought I'd let you know_ he_ isn't pleased." He smiled, showing teeth. 

"How lovely," she replied with more than a hint of sarcasm. "Now being used by you as well as Terrin, the phrase has been overused. It's so nice to know that he has his dog spying on me as well as his fish. And since you know my name so well, let me ask you something. What would yours be? Is it _Dog_ or something else? You seem to like follow your master's every command...or am I just not seeing this right?" Insulting comments were one of the talents she'd picked up from Terrin. 

"Very funny," he replied dryly. "For something that doesn't concern you, I hate dogs." 

Alanna pretended to inspect a nail. "Name," she demanded. 

"What about yours?" he shot back. "I know it's not Alanna." 

She turned her chortle into an unsuccessful sigh. "It's close enough, if you must." 

He twitched. "Alex, then." 

She smiled and dusted her hands. "Well Alex, I'm not up to a conversation just now." With a series of flips, she alighted on the roof. 

"Show off," she heard someone remark loudly. Turning her head slightly, she caught sight of Terrin coming up to stand beside Alex. She stuck her tongue out at him. 

_Have you just gotten immature, or are you actually flirting with him?_ a certain black cat wanted to know. It had been following her around so much, like a faithful dog, that she had actually decided upon impulse to name it Faithful. Or rather, him. _I should have name him 'Annoyance' ,_ Alanna thought irately and tried to get rid of him by quickening her step. 

_You know, you can't always ignore me,_ it continued. _Not since I'm a messenger from the Gods._

She looked at it strangely. "Yes," she agreed. "And pigs can fly." 

_Maybe they can._

"It's no good talking to a cat, especially if they always insist on getting the last word," she muttered. Looking at Faithful, she was sure he had a smug look about him, if cats could look smug. "I hope you get lost on the streets-that or a thief decides you're actually worth stealing." 

_I wish the same to you. _

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

Rounding the corner into to stable yards, a small figure ran past her and almost collided. The small boy fell, but scrambled off and readied to begin his hurried progress across the yard. She held him back by the sleeve. "Watch where you're going next time, especially if you're going to run into people in bad moods." 

"Me sorry, miss, but I'da sworn I sawed a black cats runned past 'ere with p'rple lamps!" He stared at his bare feet, fidgeting nervously. 

It shouldn't have surprised her, but it did. "Pek," she realized. 

He looked up at her through his large gray eyes. "Miss!" he exclaimed happily. "Ye comed back! I'd been waitin' fo'ever! Just like 'e said last time 'e comed. 'y lookin' fer G'orge?" He paused only momentarily before going on. "I can take ya to 'im, if ye wants, but 'e gots ot'er guests 'e's been lookin' aft'a, so we gots ta waits fer a bit." He took his grubby hands in her and pulled her along, words still streaming. "They'd been treatin' me'uns real goods-the man ye'd like'ta jabber w'th still visits me." 

Alanna frowned, Terrin had been visiting George? And Pek? But why would he do that? Unless... 

"Ye just'a need ta 'ock da door, miss'un. 'e's always in'a good mood when they visits." Alanna smiled faintly at him, and handed him a copper. He barely nodded his thanks before taking off again, most likely to spend his new earnings. She shook her head after him and raised her hand to knock on the door, finally realizing where she was. Before she could do anything, though, it swung open to admit a very red-faced young man. 

"Gary." 

He looked up and swayed on his feet. "You-uh, Lady Alanna," he said in a daze. "What are you doing here?" He was clearly drunk again. 

"Gary!" someone called from inside. "Who're you talking to? Or is it just yourself?" Drunken laughter insured, making Alanna's eyebrow go up. 

"I suppose you took it to your head that I would always come with a remedy every time you did this," she commented sardonically. "Who else is in there with you? I was told George was supposed to be here..." 

"George? He's there." He paused. "I think. Or I think he left when it started...no, that was-I don't remember." He cocked his head and stared at her, and emitting a large yawn, swayed some more. 

"I think you'd better sit down," Alanna murmured, grabbing the young but large man non-too-gently by the arm, trying to re-direct him inside and onto a stable chair. He stayed rooted to his spot; she scowled. "Gary, move it!" There was more laughter. 

It took some effort on her part, but she finally got him to move out of the doorway, at least. 

The sight of what lay beyond it was a different matter. George, on the down side, was not present. Someone else missing was Gary's friend, Raoul. Three rogues were Marek, Lightfingers, and the strange Grayson. They looked up at her with equal surprise as she viewed them. Marek and Lightfingers didn't stop conversing animatedly with the two men sitting across from them while doing this, though. Unfortunately, they were all drunk-with the exception of Grayson, who always seemed to be sober and scowling. 

It was he who stood up and walked over, mistrust etched clearly on his scarred face. His sour expression seemed to be as much toward the younger men as well as her. "What d'ye think yer doin' 'ere?" 

Ignoring him, Alanna continued to survey her surroundings. "Quite a party you have here-and it being a bit past noon, too. Don't you all usually know to reserve the rowdiness for later in the evening?" 

"Not where it involves ye, no," he grumbled. "If it be a prostitutes' party ye'd be lookin' fer, on the streets and in 'er dark alley be the place." 

"Sadly, that's not what I'm looking for," she said, giving a mocking sigh. "Of course, I'm in need of entertainment while I wait, and watching you bleed sound like a better past-time than brewing up remedies for hangovers these drunken oafs will be crying for." She twiddled a dagger to express her point to the further extent of her icy tone. 

He snorted, but believed her. "I 'ope George decides te turn ye into the Provost, Rouge Code or no," he spat. She shrugged, juggling the knife from one hand to the other, playfully throwing them in the air, then catching them last minute. Looking her over, he found her to be dressed differently than the last time he'd seen her. Her sturdy brown cotton breeches and the wool shirt seemed to be ordinary, but the quality by which they seemed to be made where not. Neither was the fact that both where stainless and new. Suspicious, he studied her face. 

The stubborn chin and lips marked her as strong-willed; but he already knew that. Her nose was not out of the ordinary, and her facial shape was common, but the striking copper hair framing it seemed unnatural with her eyes. Expressionless but a startling shade of violet, they made her all the more mysterious. It wasn't her looks and features (if you could see past the purple eyes and red hair) so much as the way she held and expressed herself that threw you when trying to dig deeper of her origins. She seemed to be harboring some big, dark secret. Most feelings were withheld from showing, other than a queer look that escaped her carefully blank mask of indifference of faked boredom. He couldn't quite put a finger on exactly _what_ that look meant, though. 

"I find that staring isn't quite as productive as other things," George remarked off-handedly from behind. Both turned towards him in anticipation, both trying to cover their uncertainty at being caught slightly off-guard. 

"It took you long enough," Alanna said coldly. 

George glanced around quickly from the other occupants of the room to Grayson, then back to her again. "I can explain," he huffed quickly. 

She smirked. 

He cocked his head and looked at her oddly. "I was actually talkin' to Grayson, if you don't mind." Alanna gave him a blank look. "Of course, if you'd just still me what you want," he amended, "I'd happily get it for you." 

Alanna rolled her eyes and sat on the table despite the protests of its current occupants. A black cat jumped into her lap as she did, giving her a cat's smirk. _I'm not moving, so don't waste your breath. And forget about talking to George, you shouldn't get into the habit. And there's more interesting news waiting._

"Oh really?" she replied saucily, forgetting that she was speaking aloud to a cat. "And just what would that be?" 

George look taken back. "Are you alright, lass?" 

"Fine, fine, never better," she replied, distracted. Faithful left her to trot over to Gary, who along with everyone else, was staring intently at whatever they were doing and pretending not to be listening. Of course, they all failed miserably at this. The cat jumped onto the table, startling its occupants and forcing them to look up. He turned around to make sure she was watching. 

With another leap, he arrived at the ledge of an open window. _Come on, we don't have all day._

Alanna shook her head, but followed. With practiced ease, she jumped out the window closely behind her strange new pet. 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

She quickened her pace; the dratted cat had disappeared after the last turn, leaving her in the middle of a maze of streets. A stone moved, scraping the ground. She turned. 

"Hello." 

Three giant men dresses in coarse black cloth stood there, the center one was clearly their leader. All had black cloths covering the lower part of their faces; she could smell the reek of alcohol in their breaths. Their eyes seemed diluted and off-focus. The one who had spoken gave away a tired voice. All in all, it was a promising scene. She leaned against the wall and waited. 

"We 'eard a rumor, our boss did, anyway. 'eard about some'un called the 'unter. A source told us it'd be ye." He paused many times while trying to say this. He was clearly having trouble talking, as told by the slurred words and unnatural tone of his voice. 

"Correct. Who might you boss be?" Her tone automatically adapted to fit the situation. She had a pretty good guess at what this was already, so... 

"'e thought ye might want'a know ye worked with'um afore. 'e says da Temple District, now." 

"Hmm...did he give you any more instructions?" She moved her hand into position, she knew what to expect, even if they didn't. It always happened on a case like this. 

He paused for a moment, thinking over his next words. It had puzzled him before, this last instruction, but he hadn't taxed his brain so much as to take the time to think over it word by word. "'e said to-ex'dermi'ate," he replied slowly, unable to get the exact word, "-ex'derm'nate those 'ho know." He looked expectantly at the woman, wondering if she could decipher the meaning. He frowned, _why does she have that strange glint in her eye?_ he wondered. It was the last thought he had before a dagger sprouted from his chest and his eyes rolled upward. 

His companions stared mute with horror from the body to the violet-eyed woman. It didn't look like she had moved at all, but instinct from living out on the streets told them to get out of there. They turned heel and ran. 

Their pursuer was not far behind; she had been ready for this. It had been like this so many times before, she didn't even give a backwards glance at the dead man. Instead, her mind focused and dwelled on the experience of the chase. They knew the area better than she, giving them the advantage in that part, but they where also drunk. 

It didn't take long for her to corner them. With a blank face, she moved in for the kill. Blood flowed, staining the bright steel blade a dark red. 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

"I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long." 

"Not at all," was the reply. "In fact, I'm surprised that they found you within the week." The voice was crisp and to the point. It belonged to a aristocratic man lounging in the shade of a large willow tree. He had light brown hair, which was beginning to gray, and murky green-gold eyes. For someone who was in his late forties, he moved with muscular grace uncommon in others his age. "I trust you've kept our confidences secret?" 

"They're taken care of," she replied coolly. "What is it you want?" 

"You're unsuitably impatient for an assassin, never mind one so young." The man stood up and walked towards her. "Come on, there are better places to talk. He led her past the Temple of the Mother Goddess, where armed warrior priestesses eyed them suspiciously. "Ignore them," he told her, as if reassuring a young child. 

"I may be young," she pointed out to him tartly, "but I'm not that young. And I haven't come to be lectured by a wheezing old crime lord." 

"My dear, that is not the way to talk to an old association that provided you with what you have now. Come on before I put your head on the stake and haul you back to Carthak." He nudged open a door with his metal-toed boots, revealing a worn marble steps leading underneath a temple. "We need a light, if you please. This place hasn't been used since the last decade when my brother used it." 

She scowled, but obliged. A purple flame ignited, hovering above her palm and casting shadows outside the circle of light. "I'm expecting answers, and I better get them soon," she said pointedly. 

"You will." 

They descended in silence for the rest of the way before reaching a dim landing. Two fully armed guards blocked the door, scarred, but both well-learned in the fighting arts. They drew their weapons as she appeared, ready to prevent her from entering if she should try. The man appeared behind her and waved his hand wearily in dismissal. They stepped aside and opened the door, nodding approval for entrance. 

"Ladies first." 

"No, if there are traps, the men should always perish before the women," she replied. 

The corner of his mouth twitched. "I see you've learned not to take every comment with deadly seriousness. Pray tell who is responsible for this delightful change." 

Alanna stared at him before throwing a kick, knowing very well that it would be blocked. It was. "Next time it's a knife." He raised an eyebrow but didn't reply. Instead, he chose to cross the threshold of the door, motioning for her to follow quickly. 

The room on the other side was large and well-lit. Golden globes lined the wall, so bright they could trick one to think that he was outside. Large gold and red couches were arranged in a semi circle around a low glass surface supported by four columns of carved marble. The pillars themselves were carved intricately into strange spirit-like, wide-eyed women. 

"Undines," he explained, following her gaze. "Nymphs who tend their respective areas. These are of the water variety. They are there purely for decoration and in no way to mock you. Sit." 

"I may not have the most pleasant deposition, but I am not necessarily that bad," she voiced before taking a seat. "You are taking my time, and my patience is waning." 

"I see you haven't forgotten your vocabulary from the University days," he remarked. "And I'm not trying to try your patience." He raised his hand and snapped his fingers. A guard entered bearing a bulging bag. Expressionless, he placed it on the table and as left quietly as he had entered. 

Alanna eyed it wearily, fully knowing what it held. "What is it for now?" 

"The rest of the pay for killing our stupid friend Oaklam. I heard a rumor somewhere that he bribed you with jewels and begged for his life before finally realizing your gender?" 

"I don't appreciate spies," was all Alanna replied. 

He sighed. "I have another job for you; I want you to think about it-really think about it-before you answer." 

"You should know that I'm on another job already, what with you and your spies." He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand. "Then you also know that I've been bored to death and would be willing to take any job offered." It was her turn to sigh. "Just make sure whoever it is isn't as idiotic as your brother." 

He chuckled. "If that's all you're worried about, it should be easy. I thought you'd enjoy this one, so I accepted my client's wager." Her eyes narrowed at the last word. "Don't worry; it's nothing major, since you're already on it." He put up a finger. "One, kill the heir of Tortall. Two," he raised a second finger, "get rid of a troublesome black-robe in training. Three," a third finger went up, "dispose of the current heir to Carthak as quickly and as discreetly as possible. What do you say?" 

Alanna stared at him. "You've had some cracked clients before, but this time they've really gone over the edge. I say you're crazy...Who put you up to this?" 

"Someone who wants power and would do anything to get it. Do you want the job?" 

"Perhaps." 

"Good, it's a lifetime assignment, so there's no rush. You've made me a hundred nobles richer, my dear, and I thank you for that." 

"Wait, I never agreed to anything," she protested. "You-" 

He stood up and regarded her carefully. "'Perhaps' is a word meaning 'yes' in my world; maybe being at court has dimmed your memory of us. You've taken the job, end of story. It's a new prospect, Alanna, have you ever thought what you'd do after you avenge your brother?" She was speechless. "That's what I thought. But don't think too much, it doesn't kill anyone other than you doing that." 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

One wonders what's become of me. Unfortunately, I'm not dead. I'm sorry it's taken so long, but life takes forever when homework and school enters it. Kinda just saps the time away. But even more unfortunately, it's entered my head to put in yet another twist in the story. Any guesses at who the client is? The man is simply the crime lord who helps with Alanna's career in Carthak. 

Questions? Answers? Comments? 

Question: **Is Terrin George or Thom or Damon?**

Answer: What? Are you referring to my other fic? Damon doesn't exist in this one and Terrin is Terrin. George is George and Thom is dead... 

Question: **Where is The Main Characters?**

Answer: Huh? What exactly are you referring to? 

Question: **Did Alanna Kill Jon? Did They Fall In Love? A/G Or A/J Or A/T Or A/G?**

Answer: Uh...if you ask anyone else who reads this, I'm sure they could answer for you...*cough* 

Question: **Is Alanna and Jon going back to the black city soon?**

Answer: I don't think that it'll happen in this story (it might), but I'm thinking more along the lines of a sequel... 

Question: **Is George going to appear again?**

Answer: Briefly in this chapter, but of course! 

**~Reaya**


	16. The Gilded Edge

**_Chapter Fourteen ~ The Gilded Edge_**

_Two heirs and a black-robe. Why do I have to get a conscience now of all time? Granted, one of them I know; one I might know, and the last one...I don't really care, do I? _The black cat trotted silently beside her, claws hitting the ground with small clicks. She pursed her lips. "Can you stop doing that? It's irritating." 

It stopped and turned its head towards her, staring with large violent eyes which mirrored her own. _Can you stop brooding? It's annoying._

Alanna opened her mouth indignantly to reply, but her pet's gaze propelled her to close it again. "Stupid cat," she muttered under her breath as soon as he had turned away. She quickened her steps; the sky was darkening already, after all, winter was coming. Remembering this fact, she shivered. Cold was one of her weak points, and as much as dark suited her...it just wasn't the same if it was cold. _Maybe Carthak _was_ better._

The wind was tousling the 'Dove's sign about as she stepped discreetly inside. She still needed to talk to George. 

He was there, sitting at his table...with Gary. "What are you still doing here?" she snapped. 

Both men looked up at her in surprise. "W-wha'?" Gary blubbered, apparently still drunk. He had cushioned his head on his arms, lolling about dizzily. 

She turned her glare on George. "Why isn't he in bed? You should know better than to leave him here where he's still drinking!" She paused and lowered her voice. "Why _is_ he here? Do you _know_ him?" 

The Rogue blinked. "I know him," he replied evenly. "The question is how _you_ know him." 

She sputtered, remembering that George did not know about her palace expedition. "That doesn't concern you," she muttered darkly. "What does, though, is the fact that _he_," she jabbed a finger at the offending personage, "_i_s _here_." 

"Lass, I think we'd better talk this out in a private place. We'll bring Gary so you can attend to him." He looked from Gary to Alanna, then back--a strange expression was traced on his face. "Solom! We need a quiet room where we're not to be bothered." The barman nodded and led them upstairs. George pulled Gary along, as the young knight was incapable of walking straight. 

It wasn't until they were in the room, with Gary strewn on the bed and George observing them both strangely again; that the realization at what the thief was hinting at hit her. She clenched her fist. "Things are _not_ like that." 

He gave a small smile. "No? Then you'd better do some explainin' to me." 

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I could, but I don't find that idea extremely attractive." 

He stared at her, then sighed. "I supposed not, but it can't hurt a man to try, eh? At least tell me what he is to you." 

She snorted. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing." She moved her braid out of her face, moving to a more comfortable position. When she looked up, he was still watching her in disbelief. It was her turn to sigh. "Don't believe me, fine. He's a relation of someone I need to..." She stretched out the last word, dragging out the meaning with a quick outward flick of her wrist. 

George's eyes widened and he looked over at the figure now snoring on the bed. He cleared his throat and looked down at the ground. "He's nobleman," he said flatly. 

"I know." Her eyes met his in a hard stare, daring him to say something to rebuke her. 

At the end, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "This friend you say...think on it, Alanna. Some of us kill for money because we have to; others kill it for the joy of feeling their victims' terror and blood. Don't kill without reason--" 

"Oh, there's a reason," she interrupted, tone coated with ice. _A very good reason. _She walked over to the window, throwing it open. "I don't suppose you'd help me with it anymore, though." She took out a sealed packet and threw it behind her. George caught it. "It's for him when he wakes up, for the hangover. He should know about it. Make it as you would a tea...its extra strong, so don't you be sipping at it. And don't worry, there is no poison." With that, she left. 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

"You're in a bad mood again," Terrin remarked as she entered her room. He was curled up on the bed, eyes skimming the words of a leather-bound volume without reading it. She could tell by the way he flipped through the pages quickly, handfuls at a time. 

She sighed. "Try something different next time, please," she muttered and dropped onto the ground at the foot of the bed. Wearily, she pulled out the small trunk placed underneath it. Fumbling around her neck, she revealed the amethyst necklace and tugged at the jewel. The chain snapped, dropping into her waiting palm. She slipped it into its slot in the wood. The mechanisms clicked open. 

She picked up the small chest, set it to rest on the dresser top and flipped open the lid. A variety of vials and packets lay neatly near the top. These she took out and arranged carefully on the smooth wooden surface before extracting her favorite dagger from her body and laid it to rest beside them. 

Brushing aside the many herb packs, she drew open an embroidered black velvet sachet and dumped its content onto the table. The jewels flooded out into a small pile. The bag itself was let fluttering to the ground. 

She cocked her head in the general direction of the mercenary. "Terrin." 

The bed let out a small squeak as the weight on it was lifted. She heard noiseless footsteps approach her; a small breath of air fluttered strands of hair near her left ear. "Whatever you're going to do, don't regret it." 

"I won't." 

She heard the same phantom steps leave her side. She tugged at the ball dense ball tightly woven magic inside her, letting it flow up to her hand. 

Terrin watched through the crack of door he had left open, leaning against the wall in resolute silence. He watched her run her fingers over vials, turning the air soft violet hue. The lids popped of silently, scattering across the floor. She picked up the dagger and turned it until the last shaft of light the receding sun caught its gilded edge, gleaming off into a pool of rainbows. Her hand dropped out of his line of vision; he heard a small thud. 

He closed the door quickly and silently. Did this mean she was disobeying orders? She had been moody lately; but never as much as this. He wondered where she had been off to. And not for the first time, he was left staring blankly at the mystery of the Hunter. 

Shaking his head, Terrin tugged on a tunic and picking up a few throwing knives for good measure, tugged open the door, steeping into the hallway. He left the guests wings for the one reserved for the royal family and their relatives. And from the obvious, the monarchs didn't have many. 

He rapped sharply on a door. "Who is it?" a smooth voice asked. 

Terrin didn't answer. Instead, he touched the handle lightly, feeling a tingle against on the flesh of his palms. He turned, the door opened. "Alex?" the duke asked. He looked up from the work on his desk. "No, Terrin. Come in." He pointed at the chair set against the wall; it was lined with white and cushioned with a gold-embroidered pillow. Under his breath, he muttered a spell. Orange light flared up around the walls. 

Closing the door behind him, Terrin walked over to the desk, ignoring the request to sit. He licked his lips. "No, it's urgent." 

The Conté Duke raised an eyebrow. "Really? Do tell me. Does it have something to do with our 'Hunter'?" Terrin gave a curt nod. "Good then; it should be interesting." 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

Alanna dipped the dagger in the red substance, coating the blade with it before tucking it carefully into a leather sheath. Clad in her black tunic, shirt, and breeches, she would blend in almost perfectly with the moonless night. She crept quietly along the outskirts of the palace walls, counting the window in her head. It would have been easier to travel from inside, but much harder to move around as her knowledge of the layout was not very spectacular. 

She ran the conversation with the crime lord through her mind quickly. He had given her scant amounts of information about her victims, but it had been more than what Terrin had told her. She stopped to branch off her course into a small private courtyard, through which a door was accessible to the Royal Wing. 

She pulled out a set of lock picking instruments, making quick work of the bolted and locked door. She snorted at the carelessness of the Tortallan royals, who hadn't even posted guards. In Carthak guards could be seen patrolling everything. And it was for nothing the emperors where all paranoid, not with assassination attempts on each one almost monthly. They didn't manage to kill the current one or his heir yet, but it was only a matter of time. A thought occurred to her that whoever sent those assassins could be the one that contacted her favorite crime lord to track her down for the job. 

She smirked as she stepped inside. She took the nearest steps by twos to reach the second landing, and from what she had learned, the Prince's floor. _Second door on the left_, she remembered. 

There were no guards yet again. She rested a hand on the handle, testing it to see if it was locked. It wasn't. She snorted lightly and pushed the door open softly, slipping inside. She checked the window--it was open, how careless of him. It would make for an easy escape. She walked over to the side of the bed. 

"Delia?" a low voice murmured. 

Alanna froze and cursed herself. She had forgotten to check if he was awake. She began to back way; there would be trouble. Her hand reached for the hidden dagger. 

The figure on the bed sat up and squinted at her. "Delia, are you coming in or not, dear? Make up your mind." 

She almost choked with the realization of whom and why the prince was up and waiting for. _He's waiting for his mistress! Uh...I'm lucky she wasn't here before now. _As it was, she couldn't help but let out a small cough. 

"Who is this?" the Prince demanded. To her horror, he pushed the blankets aside and got out of bed. "Who are you? And what are you doing in my room?" 

She knew she should have left long before, but the sight of the Prince's state of dress, or lack thereof, kept her glued to the place she stood. Which was why she didn't notice the when he had reached his sword. In fact, she didn't notice until she caught the gleam of the blade flash in the dim starlight shining through the window. 

Her body reacted before her mind did, and the tip of her dagger was brought to brush the Prince's arm just as she skirted back to dodge the oncoming sword. She moved back, nearer to where she guessed the window was, careful to keep her face turned away and out of the light. 

Had this been under different circumstances, she would have killed him then and there. But she hadn't been thinking, and instead, vaulted out the window. She landed and rolled quickly, her braid loosening from the coronet around her head to twine around her body. Leaves, twigs, and other debris stuck to her hair and clothes. As ironic as it was, her only thoughts were directed at the state of her cleanliness and at the amount of washing it would take to get her hair to satisfactory state of cleanness again. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Prince looking out and calling for guards. 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

I tried, I really did. It's Thanksgiving, what can I say? (Mostly, I'm typing this to avoid the party downstairs). Of course when I post this, it won't be Thanksgiving anymore, will it. What do you think? The plot's still moving, and I twisted it again. 

Questions & Answers stated below. 

Question:** And is her brother dead beyond retrieval?**

Answer: Pretty much, yes. Sorry Thom *coughneverlikedhimmuchanywaycough* 

Question: **Or will this end as one of those...Alanna hates both guys n goes n have a life of her own based on isolation?**

Answer: Hmm...that could be an idea. *wink* I haven't figured the pairing out myself yet. After all, I just found out today that Alanna was even going to try to kill Jon. *mutters about characters keeping secrets* Of course, there'd always be sequels _if_ it /does/ end that way. 

Question: **And why exactly did she go to see George?**

Answer: To ask him some questions, I think...of course, I don't think it worked out. Did it? *has a current case of memory loss* 

Question: **Will Alanna ever find out who sent the sickness that killed Thom? **

Answer: Most likely, yes. It's part of the plot...I think. *blames memory loss* 

Question: **Will she [Alanna] ever go to get the Dominion Jewel in a sequel or whatever so they might not meet Thayet there for who will be Queen..?**

Answer: I think I might understand this question. But I have no idea about the answer... 

Question: I** assume now that the black robe in training is Numair?**

Answer: You might assume right, or you might assume wrong. It's not up to _me, _you know. I just avoid answering direct question. (I seem to be doing a lousy job today, though. I've answered at least three questions already) 

Question: **And was Gary too drunk to notice the episode where she pulled out knives and flipped them?**

Answer: I'll explain that in the next chapter...if I remember. *scribbles down note* 

Question: **How come you update after such a long period of time?**

Answer: The whole disappointing thing called life gets in the way. Plus I have an essay mom's demanding I write for the DAR contest (I won last year, so she promised me my very own scanner if I won this one, and then my own laptop if I win another one, and my English teacher discover my so-called "writing talent" and is after me to publish a book. See why I'm so busy? Not to mention all the projects from school) *sigh* 

Question: **And who is that secret man? A new character?**

Answer: He's just the crime lord in Carthak. Oaklam's brother, I believe. 

Question: **And is she flirting with Alex?**

Answer: Maybe. After all, I _do_ support A/A. 

Question: **Have you read Tricksters Choice yet?**

Answer: Yup, got the book weeks ago. Dashed my thoughts about Aly/Trickster. *pouts* 

You guys are trying to kill me with questions, huh? I bet this is a conspiracy to get me to answer them. :p 

**~Reaya**


	17. Healing Touch

**_Chapter Fifteen – Healing Touch _**

****

"Gods, Jon, can you stop pacing already? I have a headache just from everything you've told us."

The black-haired young man paused in mid-stride before continuing again. "I don't get it," he muttered, more to himself than to his friends sprawled on the floor. "Why would a woman be trying to kill me?"

Gary rolled his eyes. "Jon, the world doesn't revolve around you and women. And how are you sure it's a woman in the first place. The description you gave us was pretty sketchy."

The largest man snorted, almost spurting out his drink. "You're one to talk, eh?" Raoul chided his friend. Gary shot him a glare, but quieted all the same, though he made a face at him when his head was turned.

Jonathan let out an exasperated sigh. "I'm not sure, that's the point. I would have passed it on as a dream, but that wouldn't explain this," he jabbed a finger at the bandages on his forearm accusingly; they were beginning to stain. "And it won't stop bleeding. If this continues, I'll have to visit Duke Baird, and he'll tell father, who'll send guards to trail my every move and whatnot." He slumped into a chair with another sigh.

"You said the woman was veiled; could there be any chance that this woman, as you claim, be a trained assassin?" asked the quiet cat-like young who had remained silent throughout most of the conversation. "And if this was a trained assassin, couldn't the moon have been playing tricks on your vision so as to make you think this was a woman? Perhaps it really was a man. After all, like you said, why would a mere woman be trying to kill you?" The three stared at him. He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "Just voicing my thoughts, that's all," he amended.

The prince shook his head. "No, you're right, Alex. I could have been seeing things. It couldn't have been a woman."

Gary tapped his lower lip with a finger, looking thoughtfully at the window. Standing up, he walked over and peered out at the sky. "There was no moon last night," he said, wincing.

"Huh?"

He hoisted himself onto the window seat, collapsing on the cushions placed there. "I remember because George said something about it last night when he sent me home. Just thinking about yesterday brings my hangover back." He rubbed his forehead. "What I would do for some of that hangover medicine...Oh." His eyes widened.

Raoul cocked his head in a questioning manner. "'Oh' what?"

"Jon, you said that your cut wouldn't stop bleeding?" Gary asked, his tone excited.

The prince squinted at his friend. "Why are you so happy all of a sudden? Enlighten me, and it had better not involve chasing or tracking down this assassin and forcing him to give us the antidote."

"Of course not," Gary replied, feeling a bit slighted. "I was about to propose a healer that might fix up your arm without the world knowing—unless she gossips. But I'm pretty sure she doesn't."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "She?"

He nodded. "Yes. You weren't there that first time we met, but you might have seen her around."

Jon's head snapped up so fast that Gary was sure something had cracked. "You don't mean Lady Alanna, do you?" he demanded forcibly.

"I do," Gary replied evenly. "She healed that hangover I had last time—do you have something against her?"

"Healed you in the middle of the night, dressed all in black and just about killed us," he muttered. "Yes, I have something against her. Plus, didn't think it the least suspicious when she appeared in your room dressed like…_that_?"

Gary let out a small groan. "Jon," he protested. "We've already been through this. Gods, she's engaged to Terrin and she's Thom's sister. Isn't that good enough for you?"

His mouth was drawn into a scowl. "Thom's sister?" He scoffed. "She's as much like Thom as I resemble a-a-pig."

"Do you mean looks or personality? Because if you mean the former, you better start dressing like one," Alex murmured.

Jonathan frowned. "Weren't you supposed to be on my side?"

He shrugged. "I just found your comment amusing, that's all. It's hard to resist saying something back to that. Now can you clarify? I got a bit lost back there when you mentioned a midnight visit…"

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ **

An hour later found the foursome walking over to the Guest Wing. "I still don't see why we have to."

Gary snorted. "You're bandages are soaked with your blood from an assassin's cut, which you refuse to let your father and Duke Baird know about, and you're asking because…?"

Jonathan shot him a look and quickened his pace. "Gary, you're tongues going to get you in trouble someday."

The chestnut eyed young man only smiled good-naturedly. "Maybe it will, but for now, I'm just looking forward to a headache-free day." He stopped and stretched.

"Hey, Gary," Alex elbowed the taller knight out of his way. "What if she doesn't want to help? From what I heard, she's pretty testy." And as if to exaggerate his point, indistinct arguing drifted down the hall from the open door ahead of them. Alex raised an eyebrow. "I'm taking a wild guess here, but that'll be her room, right?"

"Actually, I think that's Terrin's. Here's is the room adjourning his, but from the sounds, she's arguing with him." Jonathan flinched as the sound of breaking glass was heard. "And it doesn't sound very good. Let's go; maybe now's not a good time." He turned and tried to walk away.

"Hold on a sec here, Jon." Gary pushing him back towards the door. His eyes shone with a mischievous gleam. "Since you're so reluctant to meet Lady Alanna, I'd say you're scared of her, huh? Or even, you're afraid to go near her because you like her, but she's already betrothed to Terrin, and you're afraid that—"

Before he could finish the sentence, a fist impacted on his cheek, throwing him off-balance and into the wall behind him. When he opened his eyes, he saw a very annoyed Jonathan glaring at him as Raoul held him back. He gulped and touched his cheek, yelping as the pain fired darts of flames at his brain. The hall seemed very quiet, as the shouting had suddenly stopped.

Two figures emerged from the door way and goggled at the sight of the four unexpected visitors outside their door. The redheaded woman wearing an ornate white velvet gown regarded them with a scowl. "It's polite to knock, you know. But then again, men all seem to think themselves beyond that." She shot a glare pointedly at her companion before stalking back into the room.

The others remained frozen in place, surprised and a bit unnerved. Terrin cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "I'm sorry, but Alanna still hasn't calmed down from our last…disagreement. I'm sure you all heard." Everyone nodded slowly, noting the understatement. He caught sight of Gary and Jonathan and raised an eyebrow. "Looks like you two need some mending. What happened?" Alex caught Terrin's eye and an unspoken message was given. "And while we're at it, do come in."

In a few minutes, they were all inside, gathered around the small table, talking. Alanna was nowhere to be seen. They explained about the recent events as quickly as possible. When they where done, Terrin seemed less surprised than they expected. When they asked why, he merely replied, "Conspiracies are a part of the outside world's court. It's perfectly normal for assassins to appear. Tortall is very peaceful compared to, Carthak, for example.

"I'm not wholly surprised that one attacked you. But you said that you thought it was a woman at first? May I ask for an explanation?"

Jon shrugged. "The assassin was very small, and I though the figure wasn't one that you'd expect a well-toned man would have. Closer to a stableboy's, maybe. And later, when he jumped out the window, I saw that his hair was very long."

"Hmm. Did you see what color it was?"

He frowned in concentration. "I'm not really sure, but I'd say it had a reddish hue. But like I said, I only saw a bit of it. The rest was covered by a veil, like his face."

Terrin nodded and his eyes flickered over to the blood-soaked bandage and Gary's large facial bruise. "I don't know if its bothering you, but you might want to get that healed and the bandage changed. You should have when you just got it, and if my guess is correct, you got it from that assassin, no?"

Jonathan nodded slowly. "The thing is," he started haltingly. "I don't want father to know about it. He'll worry, you see, and, well…" he trailed off, hoping Terrin would understand. He was relieved when Terrin nodded again without asking for further explanation.

"What about Gary's cheek? Did the assassin get him, too?"

Gary and Jonathan both fidgeted in their seats, their faces holding faint traces of red.

It was Raoul who answered for them. "They got a bit rowdy on the way here, and Jonathan couldn't control himself," he explained.

"Ah. Then I'm guessing the main reason you're here is to ask Alanna to heal you two."

Raoul grinned sheepishly. "We were hoping she would, but she's seems rather…angry with us."

"That was my fault. She got quite upset at me earlier on." Terrin chuckled. "Come on, then, she should be cooled off by now." He stood up and led them over to the door, knocking sharply. "Alanna?"

"Hmph. So _now_ we start knocking—why not before?" came the voice from within. "What do you want? You might as well come in."

Terrin opened the door and ushered the two patients in. "Alex and Raoul had decided it be better if they stayed out, as they were not needed inside. Now, Alanna—"

"No."

"Why? You didn't even hear them out yet."

"I heard your conversation, enough of it anyway, and I am _not_ taking part in any of this," she replied. She pushed herself off the bed and over to the window seat, crossing her hands under her breasts. She plopped down without so much of a thought to the ruin of her expensive dress.

"I'm afraid you're already part of this my dear," Terrin told her slyly. She looked up at him with a frown. _Oh, and why don't you tell them that I'm the assassin and you're a mercenary?_ She snapped at him sardonically in her head, even though she knew he couldn't hear. "You told me that you helped Gary with his hangover last time, so you might as well help them this time. Excuse me," he said to the too knights and walked over to her. Leaning close, he whispered in her ear. "They're suspicious about the assassin already; do you want to push them along in it?"

She glared at him, but knew he was right. "Fine," she muttered grudgingly. "but we are going to have a long talk later." And in a louder voice, "You two, go outside and sit down. You too, Terrin."

Once they were outside, she walked over to the large wardrobe and pulled open the wooden doors. Digging through the clothes, she found a large leather bag. It was filled with useful herbs and items for healing and magic, some brought from Carthak and others she had bought in Tortall with the excessive money used to pay for her dresses.

_It's stupid,_ she thought to herself. _Undoing my own work and healing the man I loathe is just plain stupid. Why am I listening to Terrin?_ But the thought of healing again sent shivers up her spine. Although she had found that she actually enjoyed the moments when she did heal, she kept telling herself that killing was easier. _And more satisfactory. You get revenge, and what does healing do?_

She picked up the bag and trotted into the room occupied by the five men. They were conversing quietly to each other, apparently oblivious to her entrance. Her eyes scanned the young men, lingering on Terrin and Jonathan. "Do you know how stupid you two look?" she asked, surprised she had voiced it aloud.

The others were just as surprised as she, if not more so. "Lady Alanna," Alex greeted her, the only one who had observed her enter.

Alanna's gaze flickered over to him, meeting his eyes. For some reason, she felt cold all of a sudden. He broke the gaze and sat down. She lifted her shoulders and approached the seated Prince. "You say the cut won't stop bleeding? Even with the bandage?"

He nodded. Gingerly, she pulled his arm into her lap, wincing inside at touching her brother's killer. Even more carefully, she unraveled the linen and mentally hit herself for not changing into something more sensible. Blood dripped onto her white gown - its sanguine hue would be near impossible to get rid of. By the time it was fully unraveled, blood had soaked a large patch of the dress. _It's a dress,_ she consoled herself. _I'm not even supposed to like dresses._

"Terrin, get the uncut linen in my bag," she instructed. He obeyed. She slid it over her dress and rested Jonathan's arm on it. She looked up at his face; it was turned away from her, but she could tell the cut pained him. Suddenly, she felt a bit of remorse for causing the wound in the first place. _This is no time to be getting a conscience again, _she chided herself. Hurriedly, she laid a soft hand on the wound. Purple fire visible only to her flowed into the cut, dispelling the poison her blade had inserted.

Skin merged and the bleeding lessened. A bead of sweat rolled down her cheek. She had forgotten how much it took out of her to heal large wounds like this. She packed the wound with a nasty-smelling salve and nimbly wrapped it with a long strip of bandage. "There," she stated. "It should begin healing on its own now; I got rid of the poison that was keeping it open."

She glanced down at her hand, which was now covered with _his_ blood and swallowed hard. "I'm going to go wash my hands," she told the others, who were still watching intently as Jonathan examined his arm. She covered her mouth with her unstained hand and quickly dashed out.

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ **

Okay, hope everyone had a happy holiday; I sure did. That's the end of this chapter, so…eh, yeah. I know, I know, I didn't answer the Gary-seeing-Alanna-juggling-knives question in the text, so I will now. Yes, he did see her, no he doesn't remember. Argument, Roger, Alex, and whatnot will all be explained in the next chapter. Hehe.

Question: **Can you make this an A/A?**

Answer: I don't even know what this is going to end up as, so if you want A/A…well, you may get it or you may not.

Question: **Is she *really* gonna kill him?**

Answer: If you wait and read, you'll find out ;)

Question: **SHE'S [Alanna] IN LOVE WITH JON?**

Answer: I don't know, you'll have to ask her yourself sometime…

Question: **Will she end up killing her "employer"?**

Answer: She needs to find him first and then maybe…wait, did you mean her first employer? Like, the one who works with Alex? Oh, then I'm not sure.

Question: **How do you get your font to be italic, bold and so on?**

Answer: I use FrontPage and it does it itself.

~Reaya

**To get to chapter 18, go here: htt p: // www. fanfiction.net /read.php ?storyid=1296112 &chapter=18 (without the spaces)**


	18. A Silent Truce

**_Chapter Sixteen - A Silent Truce_**

****

She would have laughed out loud if her hand wasn't covering her mouth. But then again, if her hand wasn't covering her mouth, a lot of partially digested food might spew out. As it was, she only just made it out of the room and to the wash bowl in time to throw up before nausea overwhelmed her and she emptied the contents of the previous meal, glad she hadn't eaten much that morning. She was also extremely grateful that no one she knew in Carthak saw her in such a state. Or anyone at all, for that matter. 

Surprisingly, no one had followed her out of the room. For this she was also extremely grateful, probably more so than anyone could have guessed. It was another of her weak points she hadn't previously acknowledged. She had never really healed infected wounds like that, just a few cuts. Even on the rare occasions when she willingly healed, she'd never gone near ulcerous gashes. Only those who were raging with fever ever had themselves tended by her. Maybe it was because her unconscious knew she'd well up with guilt every time she saw someone like that, as she often caused similar wounds on her victims. And now the irony of healing something she had caused was almost overpowering. 

She paused her thoughts and stripped off the blood-stained gown and slipped into a plainer lilac one. A hovering maid quickly took both bowl and dress to dispose of. Taking a seat by the window, she stared out onto the grounds below. A group of young men talked loudly to each other, laughing at some shared joke. If Thom hadn't tried to fight off a sickness not his own, he might still have been here. He might have been standing there with them. An unwanted tear trickled down her cheek. 

_You better suck that up. Someone's coming._ A black shadow appeared and disappeared at the doorway. "Thanks for the warning," she remarked dryly after it. "What would I ever do without you?" 

"Lady Alanna?" 

She whirled around to face the person she least wanted to see. "Highness," she replied tersely, noticeably leaving out the usual 'your' before the title. 

He studied her face, a frown marking his puzzlement. Seeing the tear-streak, he paused, considering his next words carefully. "If it bothered you so much, why did you heal me?" he asked. "And what is it you have against me anyway?" He braced himself in preparation for a scolding. 

He wasn't disappointed. A shadow crossed her face and her eyes flashed violently. "What I have against you," she repeated, as if savoring the taste of the words on her tongue. "Against you," she said a third time. "For being alive while my brother is in his grave—it was only because of him in the first place that you're standing there. You should be dead, along with everyone in this damn place. And you know, I never heard from him at all in the span of time he was here. But then again, I didn't hear from anyone else, either_._ He lived for twelve years—twelve! And the last of his years he spent doing what he despised most. And at the end, he gave up his life for you. You! The heartless bastard who thinks too highly of himself to care about anyone else. 

"Do you think _I'm_ here on my own free will? Do you think that I'd have no _feelings_ about this after my family died? I spent years wondering what happened to him after his death. No one bothered to inform me that my twin had died—no, I had to find out myself through a _slave_. One would think that the royal family of this be-damned country would be more gracious than they have been to someone who saved the heir, don't you? No, you haven't even mentioned his name." Her rant slowed, her voice fading away as if she'd only just realized what she had screamed aloud in the face of the Prince. 

She glared up defiantly at him, expecting fury on his face. Instead, she found a considering kind of puzzlement. 

"You're really strange, you know," he began quietly. "You sound less upset about this than you did when protesting against healing me and Gary. You're so withdrawn, almost melancholy. It's like you only show emotion to Terrin or us when we particularly annoy you. It's like all your other expressions are an act, concealing some hidden motive. Its like you're only here to complete some mandatory task and then you'll disappear forever." He paused as a strange expression rippled across her face, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. 

She flinched internally. His comments had hit right on the target. Was she really that easy to see through? Her old masters would kill her for this. She opened her mouth to reply, but he had more to say. "I admit that you confuse me. I suspect you confuse everyone." He regarded her searchingly. "Tell me, what exactly were you doing out on the street so Gary and Raoul found you near the, uh, inn? And that other time...in the middle of the night." 

This time her flinch showed through. Never mind about her masters and her fellow assassins killing her, she might as well kill herself. It seemed she had underestimated the prey, something she had never expected to do. But then again, this was her first full-length job. All her previous ones usually fell into the category of breaking, entering, and killing. It was strange to think that she had tried, and will have to, kill this person stripping her plan apart. Studying him, she found loopholes in his usually irritating handsome demeanor. His brow was knitted together in confusion and thought. His skin had taken on a rosy flare, tingeing his cheeks a bright pink. His coal black hair was mussed and dark bags appeared under his eyes. His mouth was scrutinized into an unconscious pout. She almost laughed aloud at his resemblance to a rat who had once kept her company as a roommate in the hole which she had lived after she had stolen away from the University. A sly smile appeared on her lip; suddenly everything seemed amusing and less serious. "You should be more careful of making enemies that are less than honorable," she muttered. 

He frowned. "Are you saying that you're less than honorable?" 

Her amusement grew. "Perhaps." 

He gave her a discerning glance and shrugged. "Then I'm guessing you find me even less honorable than yourself." 

"Hmm...I really haven't thought much of your honor. I was thinking more along the lines of how you ended up Prince." 

"What?" 

She smirked. "With looks like a rat, I mean. Terrin's the fish, and Alex is a dog—no, more a cat, I suppose. Which would make Raoul the dog and Gary the, um, drunk." She cocked her head to the side. "But when looked at this way, one could say that you resemble some sort of pig." His mouth opened and closed in shock. "Wait...now you resemble the fish." 

He raised both hands, as if in surrender. "Stop," he commanded. "I thought you were angry at me. Or are you just changing the subject to avoid my question?" 

"Let's just call it a hobby, okay? If you were locked up in a convent for half your life, then you'd understand." 

His frown deepened. "But I thought you were in Carthak most of your life." 

_Oops._ She had to practice this whole lying thing. "I was, but I had to attend convent-like lessons," she amended lamely. Her gaze shifted over to his hair, suddenly finding the disarray of matted hair extremely interesting. 

He noticed her stare and moved his hand to try to smooth his tousled hair. He remembered her previous comment. "How exactly do I look like a rat?" 

A small giggle escaped her. "You just do. That white really doesn't go with you all that well." 

His hand immediately left his hair to finger his tunic. "It doesn't?" 

"No, it doesn't," she confirmed. "And the black boots don't go with it, either. You should try matching it with a sandy brown color next time," she informed him, knowing fully that brown boots looked horrendous with that shade of white. But this was so much more fun than brooding. Plus, it had been so long since she could tease anyone as gullible as him. _Now that I think about it, Thom always fell for these things too._ She stopped. "Oh." She had almost forgotten in the midst of her amusement. 

Jonathan looked up from his inspection of his boots. "Is there something else wrong?" he asked her tartly. He really disliked being criticized about his clothes and looks. Especially when he knew he was pretty much a mess. 

"I want to ask you something. About my brother." After a quick argument with her pride, she had decided to ask. 

He straightened and blinked, caught by surprised. He never really expected her to reply without mocking him. "He was...quiet. I didn't really talk to him, except once. It was over a fight with this other boy—Malven. They hadn't gotten along and there was a fight on the first day. Thom had done something to him with his Gift. We intervened, but Thom got angry at us for doing so. I didn't communicate with him after that. In fact, I suppose we resented each other after that. It's beyond me why he decided to save my life at the cost of his own, though. 

"He never mentioned you in front of us. We only found out that he had any siblings after his death, when we inquired at Fief Trebond. No one knew where you had gone and Lord Trebond, I mean, your father was already too far gone at that time." It was only after it had left his mouth that he had realized the second meaning which could be found in his last sentence. "I mean he was sick in bed—I didn't mean any disrespect..." He stopped, noticing that she had been staring. "...or...anything." 

The stare wasn't a cold one—but it didn't contain any warmth either. It was like she was watching him unconsciously. Suddenly her eyes refocused and she frowned at him. "No," she replied evenly. "Lord Alan lost it when we were born. He was always ill. But tell me about his cousin of yours." 

It was Jonathan's turn frown. Why would she want to know about Roger all of a sudden? And why did she refer to her father so distantly? "Well, his mother died giving birth to him." 

"Like mine," she breathed so softly that it was inaudible. 

"What?" She shook her head, motioning for him to go on. "Well, there's not much to tell other than the fact that he's Duke and a really powerful sorcerer." He shrugged. "You should try visiting him yourself." 

She nodded, and to his surprise, smiled. "I think I will." She stood up to leave, but paused at the doorway. "By the way, you have some unshapely food particles hanging at the side of your mouth," she informed him and ducked out. 

Jonathan raised his hand to brush the imaginary food away, before remembering that he hadn't eaten anything that day. He sighed. At least there was less tension between them now. 

**

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

**

Terrin gnawed the side of his cheek. It had taken him long enough to realize what he wanted, or had not wanted, to do but even longer to actually decide to do something about it. Alanna was talking to Jon without threatening to kill him—even if the raised voice did sound awfully suspicious—and Raoul was now happily winning money off Gary from a recent bet. It was choice enough time. 

He excused himself with a small nod and headed out the room. Passing Alanna's open door, he peaked in. The two were calmly conversing—or rather, Jon was talking and shooting nervous looks towards the assassin while she stared at him without actually seeing him. Terrin chuckled quietly to himself and moved on. 

A small black cat appeared in front of him, its tail twitching in beckon. _Alanna's cat,_ he thought, deciding to follow. 

An hour later he was still moving. After passing the same fountain twice, he was now sure that he was really lost. _And to think I had to choose now of all times to get lost. I should have known that cat was just like its mistress. _Shaking his head, he settled on the rim of the large fountain and stared up at the cloudy sky, glad for a reason to put it off a bit longer. 

**

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

**

For once in her life, Alanna was nervous. No, that didn't describe it near enough. She was really and extremely nervous, with butterflies doing loops in her stomach. She didn't know why, but her intuition did not want her to meet the Prince's cousin at all. Stopping in the middle of the dimly lit hall, she breathed in and out slowly, trying to calm her rattled nerves. 

After ten of them, she gave up and continued on her way. Pulling a maid aside for directions, she finally reached the door that she had been informed would lead to the sorcerer. She paled as she stared at it. Now she knew why she had been so nervous, sort of, anyway. _There is no reason for me to be giddy about meeting this employer,_ she reconciled herself. _He's human and just like every other person you've worked for._ _But he wants you to kill a prince, _a small half of her thought. _Yeah? Someone else wants me to kill a Black Robe Mage, that same Prince, and whatever heir Carthak had to the throne that week, _she responded. She shook her head and frowned. Arguing with herself was not the best thing to do just now. 

She rapped gently on the door. There was no answer. She knocked again and received the same reply. Not wanting to return to her room, where she suspected Terrin might be waiting, he rested her hand on the knob and turned. As expected, it didn't move. Slipping a thin pick from her sleeve, she slid it into the lock. It glowed, turning hot in her hand. She dropped contact just in time as the wire melted. 

She scowled, determined not to be stopped. Pulling a thread from her Gift, she prodded the lock carefully. A strong force slammed into her, sending her hurtling into the hallway wall across. 

_Definitely a sorcerer's door, _she confirmed moodily. Massaging her back, she approached the door again, her curiosity hooked. 

_You might want to be more careful. _Faithful appeared at her foot and sat, not caring that he was grooming in what was the middle of hallway outside a Duke's door, watching as an assassin magically tried to pick his lock. 

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious, once again." 

_I do try._

Alanna rolled her eyes and replaced her hand on the knob. Closing her eyes, she reached a bit deeper into the pool of light that was her magic. Choosing a point, she began feeding it out of her palm and into the lock, using sheer power to overflow that of the present spell's. The oppressing force pushed against her again, but this time she pushed back, shoving a large amount of purple light to the pressing orange one. The spell broke and the lock clicked open. 

"Well, that was a bit easier than what I'd imagined." 

_Don't get cocky, _her cat reprimanded and slinked in ahead of her, tail raised. 

She sighed and walked in after it. A large suite opened up in front of her. A bed. Desk. Papers and inkwells aplenty. Basically, nothing out of ordinary. She was disappointed after going through all that just to find an ordinary room like any other. Albeit one with a lot of extra papers and ink. 

She sat down glumly on the bed, covering a yawn. "I'm tired," she mumbled to her cat. 

The creature ignored her and hopped onto the near desk. _If you were smart, or awake enough, you might have thought to look through these papers._

She snorted, but made no move to get up. "And what am I going to find there? 'Plans to kill Prince and Heir?' I'm not even entirely sure that he's my employer yet. Besides," she added, dropping her voice, "I'm not sure—" 

A sound at the door shut her up. She cursed inwardly as a shiver crept up her spine. 

"I wasn't expecting any visitors," a voice remarked, amusement showing in his tone. _Sadistic? Maybe._

She turned around, knowing what to expect. From the small glances at him she had seen at the few social events Terrin had forced her to, she had already known that the Duke was a very handsome man. She studied him carefully. His black-brown hair rippled with light cast from the flickering torch behind him. Tall and muscular, he looked the part of a well-toned fighter. Riveting blue eyes caught her gaze and a small smile crept onto his perfect, full lips. 

_Yes, a very handsome man. Like his cousin the Prince. _She frowned, wondering why she would think of him at a time like this. _Oh yes, this is the man that wants me to kill him._

"I wasn't expecting any visitors," the Duke repeated again. He regarded her carefully from head to toe. Another shiver crept up her spine. 

"Your Grace," she greeted wryly, sweeping a sharp curtsy. "I wasn't expecting you back so soon." 

"So as I can see." He closed the door quietly behind him. "So, Hunter was it?" 

Her eyes flickered to the door and back to his face. "And what is it to you?" she questioned, feeling the need to say something. 

"To me? Everything," he replied with a cold smile. "If I remembered correctly, I sent a certain mercenary to Carthak to find this assassin. Yes, I heard he was prone to disobeying and surprising his employers, who oft more than not also ended up dead, but the assignment I had in mind would be worth it. Seldom did I think that _he_ would turn out a _she_." 

"You only made the same mistake as everyone else." 

"Yes," he contemplated slowly. "But I am not everyone else." He hefted himself onto his now empty desk, Faithful having left as soon as he entered. "You see, it has come to my attention that you have a certain...enthusiasm for taking the life of the said victim. Why is that?" 

"My secrets are my own," she responded, eyes narrowed. "I don't see why that would concern you as long as I get the job done." 

"Of course, but you disobeyed the other night, did you not? Going after the Prince like that alerted him that he has a killer on his heals." 

She shrugged. "There is no reason to be concerned as long as I get the job done," she repeated in monotone. 

The smile returned to the Duke's lips. _Definitely sadistic, _she confirmed. "I have doubts, my dear, that you will ever complete the task to its fullest." 

Her eyes glassed over and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Why is that?" she snapped, more sharply than intended. 

"Because Terrin, too, is having doubts. I suppose Alex holds a few now as well, with you in the picture. What do you think of Tortall, Alanna of Trebond? Was it as you remembered it so long ago?" 

She paled, but tried to regain what little foothold she had in the conversation. "It will do you no good to reveal me, as it is already the part I play," she scoffed, slightly nervous. 

"True," he responded slowly. "I will not reveal you, as you will not reveal me. Our intentions are similar, even if we hope to accomplish different tasks. While this is so, you will not carry on the task. Tortall might have rekindled the feeling you pushed down as an assassin," he told her. "And the only way to put them aside again is leave, Hunter." He stood up and opened the door. "But before that, I suggest you complete your job and prove my doubts wrong...before I decide to brush you aside, too." 

"I don't plan on ignoring the assignment. I hate the Prince plain and clear and your doubts are as little mattered as dust. Even if you have no need of me, there are others after the same target as you." A flicker of surprise ran across his eyes, but the sadistic smile crept up again. "I plan on following this path, seeing as I've a reputation to keep." 

"You do that, then." 

She brushed coldly by him and into the hallway, not looking back. Someone bumped into her. "You again." 

"Where did you come from? The last time I checked, you were conversing with the Prince." 

"Leave me alone," she snapped and continued on her way. 

Terrin shrugged and approached the door. Surprisingly, it was unlocked. 

**

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**

It's done!. I'm so happy. It's done! Chapter 16 is done and over with. Yay! It's a couple of months late, but it's finally done! *lets out breath* The first half was a pain in the butt to right, and I was on the verge of deleting it to start from scratch. But I didn't and decided to continue it anyway. Aren't you happy? I am. Since it's spring break, I might be able to get another chapter out within the week! 

Question: **When do you think Alanna's going to start liking anyone at all?**

Answer: I like the phrasing on this one, so I'll answer it, along with a bit of added information. I've remapped the story and resorted my priorities and I think they'll be about 25 or so chapters in the story, give or take some. Don't take my word for it, though. So romance is just around the corner. 

Question: **Why doesn't Jon and the others suspect Alanna?**

Answer: I love these questions. For one thing, they do, or rather, Jon does. A lot. But he's keeping things quiet for Terrin's sake, and maybe even his own. You see, being a Prince makes too much attention tedious at times, even if its at the risk of one's life. Heh. 

Question: **I'm wondering - for chapters 15-17 I have not gotten a notification. Is this purposely or not?**

Answer: Oops. I forgot my mailing list for those chapters. I promise I won't forget again...hopefully. Maybe everyone on the Mailing List will get a special gift, or something... 

Question: **How did Alanna get to Carthak? Did she and Thom ever even try the switch?**

Answer: Yes, they tried to switch. Alanna made the mistake of telling Coram a bit too close to home...So Lord Alan got mad and shipped her off to Carthak. Don't ask why, it's for plot purposes, you see. 

Question: **Is the sword Terrin gave Alanna something like Lightning? Or the dark blade from the Great Southern Desert, when the original Alanna was with the Bazhir?**

Answer: It's actually just a normal sword. 

Question: **What does the black Opal and purple stone have to do with the story?**

Answer: I added those in for a plot device in the first few chapters, but now I totally forgot what I was going to use them for...I guess they can stay to add a bit of mystery to the story. 

Question: **Is this a A/J story, A/G story, or is Alanna going with Terrin?**

Answer: ...erm... 

There, I answered six out of seven. Aren't you proud? Maybe not, but still. 


	19. The Better Things

**_Chapter Seventeen - The Better Things_**

After a couple of glasses of wine, Alanna was in a strangely happy mood considering the previous encounter she'd had. Who knew Terrin kept alcohol in his cabinet? _The boys probably sneaked drinks without me_. She knocked a thimble of wine off the desk and watched in rapture as it shattered on the floor. She giggled and poured herself another drink with shaking hands.

Holding it to her lips, she tipped the glass and drink sloshed over her closed mouth, dribbling down her dress. She giggled again, almost choking on the drink. Coughing and still laughing, she pushed herself up to a standing position. A shadowy form was coming closer from outside the door. Probably just Terrin. Or maybe the Duke. She giggled harder.

"Terrin? Lady Alanna?"

Was that Terrin's voice? No, it sounded a bit like the Conté Duke. "You're Grace," she hiccupped and returned to giggling, collapsing on the floor.

The man approached her, hesitant. "Lady Alanna?" He glanced over to the desk and winced. "I guess she found the hidden stash in Terrin's room. He sighed, why did he have to be the one who found this? Wasn't it enough just being the Prince?

"I'm going poison the Prince's wine, like you said," the violet-eyed woman spoke up suddenly. Amazingly, her speech was only a bit slurred even after all those drinks.

The said Prince blanched. _What? She said something about a Grace earlier--a duke?_ At the end, Jonathan settled on the thought that she was too drunk to know what she was saying. Nervously and slowly, he approached her. "I'm going to take you to Terrin, is that alright with you?"

As expected, he didn't get an answer. Sighing, he tucked one arm under her knees and the other to support her head, lifting her up with a few jerky motions. He just hopped that she wouldn't remember this. From what he had learned, she wasn't the type who liked to be carried around, drunk or not.

For now, though, Alanna only shifted in his arms to a more comfortable position, her head resting nonchalantly on his chest. "Terrin," she mumbled. "There's something I want you to know." Jonathan's eye's widened. Now she thought he was her betrothed, and was going to confide in him. "I _am_ the real Alanna of Trebond, and Thom really was my brother. I was supposed to come to the palace, but..." Jonathan stopped just outside the doorway. He looked down at the bundle in him arms, frowning.

He waited for her to go on, but it seemed that she had already fallen asleep. Just what did she mean she was the _real_ Alanna of Trebond? Wasn't that who she was already? And what did she mean by 'I was supposed to come the palace?' If they weren't already, the pieces of the puzzle were getting more and more confusing. He almost wished for the more quieter days of his squiredom.

With quickened steps, he found himself in his own wing of residence, also were Gary resided. _Where is Terrin supposed to be, anyway? _Deciding that it wouldn't be good if he dropped the fiancé of his friend on his own bed, he headed for Gary's room.

A small kick on the door alerted his cousin of his arrival. The taller man's eye's popped at the sight of him. "What are you doing with--You don't mean..."

He glared at the chestnut haired knight. "Get your mind out of the gutter. She got drunk."

"You got her drunk, too?" His eyes widened even further.

Jonathan continued to glare.

Gary lifted his shoulders. "Well, how else is she supposed to get drunk? She's a noble lady, and even if she found that stash of drink we gave to Terrin for safekeeping, she wouldn't have drunk that. --Oh. She _did_? I knew it wasn't a good idea to keep it there. Why didn't you listen to me?"

The prince placed her gently on the bed and turned around. "If I remember correctly, it was your idea to steal it from the cellars and put it there."

Duke Gareth's son feigned ignorance, suddenly intrigued by a spot on the ceiling. Jonathan sighed and shook his head. "Why don't you find Terrin and tell him about this?"

The other man looked surprised. "And leave her alone with you?"

His mouth turned down. "What?" he questioned the look his friend had given him.

"You know how wrong that would look _and_ sound, Jon? You're the heir to the throne and she's already betrothed," he stated matter-of-factly.

Jon rolled his eyes. "I swear, your mind is thinking nasty things every time someone speaks."

"Hey, I don't do that usually. It's just that one's cousin showing up with an uncurious woman in his arms isn't a usual occurrence. Especially if..." He stopped, catching sight of Jon's hand making a slitting motion at this neck. "On second thought, why don't you get Terrin and I stay here? I came and read some papers, yeah, um read."

"Read?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Maybe not read, but I'll just sit here and watch the plants grow, you know." Gary pointed out the window. "Might be a tad more, uh, more interesting."

"Okay...I'll get Terrin and you stay here since you seem to portray me as, well, you." Jonathan quickly left the room.

It took Gary some time to register the remark. He rushed to the doorway. "What do you mean _me_? I'm now categorized as a type of pervert! Who do you think you are? Come back here now and explain how I'm supposed to be--"

"Shut up, Thom."

"What?" He turned to face the roused woman on his bed. She grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, covering the remaining one over her head. He ducked it easily.

"Can't you see I have a headache?" She groaned and turned over, digging deeper into the bed. "Go fall in a ditch something until I feel better..." She yawned and returned to sleep.

The chestnut-haired knight scratched his head. "...Thom?"

-----------

The ray of light pulled at the corner of her vision. Blurred images passed through her mind and returned forgotten. She opened her eyes and sat up. Jonathan was backed against the wall and Terrin leaned silently in the doorway. She smiled and ran her fingers through the mess that was her hair. "Been waiting long?"

The two looked up at her. "I heard someone raided my stash of wine."

She batted her eyes innocently. "Why would someone want to do that? It's not like the wine was any good."

"And you'd be one to judge?"

She stretched, messaging her shoulders. "Are you sure Gary doesn't mind me using his room like this?"

Jonathan gave a small grin. "Oh, but he does. But he couldn't refuse."

"Of course." She pushed herself off the bed. "Where are my shoes?" He shrugged. Alanna rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Some of these days, I'm going to be reduced to the point of killing someone."

Terrin moved from his space on the door closer to her. "You shouldn't speak of killing so easily, my dear." She turned her eye to him wearily. She knew the word that was hanging on the tip of his tongue. "There are some things better to be left alone."

She sighed and sat back down. "Is that supposed to be some meaningful hint about my personality?"

"No, just your actions."

Jonathan frowned, looking to from the couple. "I'm not sure I understand."

Terrin continued as if he hadn't heard. "_Alanna_." He stressed the name and repeated, "There are some things better to be left alone. I need to be going soon; whether to leave or not is up to you." Alanna stared at him openly. He nodded. "Jon, I think you'd better go. We have some things to talk about."

He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but then thought better of it. He nodded and left, closing the door silently behind him.

"This isn't about me getting drunk, is it?"

"No, of course not. Let's just say I've had a falling out."

"Typical. But I'm not going. I have more than one price weighed on his head and I'm not leaving it alone until it's done." She turned away from him and studied her nails. "It's really not my fault."

He paused before walking over to the other side. She continued staring at her hands. He put a finger under her chin and forced her to look him in the eye. "It is, and you know it. You want revenge that you know is unreasonable. You want to blame someone for your brother's death and he's the best suspect. You don't want to turn back and admit that you wasted you—"

She tore herself away, fuming. "What do you know about all of this? What do you know about _me_? What is it you have on me anyway? I don't know how you get all your little pieces of information, or why you change your mind so fast. And your little sermons about killing—aren't you doing it to?"

"Maybe I was wrong. Have you ever thought that I might have a reason for taking on this job? Have you ever thought that I might not be a real killer?" He laughed quietly. "Go back to Carthak, Hunter. Leave Tortall and its Prince alone. I won't pry anymore; the truth is that you're just exhausting to be around."

Alanna narrowed her eyes. "And what's that suppose to mean?"

"Nothing," he replied. "Just...nothing. I'm leaving tomorrow, if you want to know."

_So much for things starting to get better._

_------- _

I found this chapter like this when I was thinking about updating. I also found some chapter summaries (unfinished) that were leading up to the grand finale, but I hadn't penned down enough to write what the ending was and I don't remember. But I decided to post this because, well, I felt a bit guilty. So this is probably year-old work. And what I'm writing now is an explanation to why it's so…short. It's not really complete, you see. Someday, when I have more time, I'll re-read this story and see if I can pick up the plot again.

My apologies.


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